In Journeys

On pillows they laid, roses, Small and fragrant, still pure in nature. Its meek pedals in full blossom, they could not retain The smiles and giggles in midnight rain. Full of joy, between ecstasy and into dependence Upon your pillow, they were lost, but never found. And in time and times this flower shed A pedal, mere and full of grace, upon your pillow it fell. And in time and times rejection arose and Indifference and cruelty had the most. And in time and times the pedals dithered Until they – alone, silent, foul – could only wither. In springs full bloom and sun and shine, These pedals reemerged and intertwined. In summers breeze and heat exchange, These pedals could no longer be deranged. In autumns breezes roughly divine, These pedals flew away, never again confined. From brown, and grey, and shades of black These pedals will never lack, Love. At the edge of existence there they sway Waiting for that time when it’s safe to lay. Where life sweet, and bitter, beats ,and bumps, to the rhythm of a heart And light and shadow, both impart.