Apology

In my dreams

I am brave and patient

waiting there for you, always,

to leave me.

I am a pillar

at the shoreline

not moving

not wavering
not receding.

Time does not exist

and we are caught

in the amber moment 
when shadows draw long     

and day becomes night

not inhabiting either,

but balanced between

the two 
together.


Over in the Imaginary Garden we are challenged to write 55 words, PLUS, if we choose, to use this image of Beta Beatrix by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, which I did.  We could also use the words of Canto 17 by Dante Alirghieri.  

The (Im)perfect Love Poem

Over in the Imaginary Garden we were given the formula to write "The Perfect Love Poem."  It is as follows: x (p + b + c + o), where P = Pattern (meter and rhyme,) B = Brevity, C = Comparison (describe the love or lover with a comparison), O = Obstacle (the difficulties inherent in a love affair), X = Mystery

But I was told there would be no math, so I didn't quite follow the formula. Instead I give you two imperfect love poems: 

My first love  poem is more like y(p+b+c+o), where y = humor.

Love Poem #1

Your love is like the bite of a tick

unnoticed at first, then making me sick

with fever and chills, aches and pains.

I hate that my heart doesn’t have any brains

when it sees this disease

that brings me to my knees.

If there was an injection

to stop this infection

I could save my heart from your rejection.

but I seem to be a philosophic waxer,

and a crazy, wild-eyed anti-vaxxer.

And my second love poem is sort of x(b+o)

Love Poem #2

You are 

the feel of wind

on my face,

the moon’s reflection

in my eyes,

the lens through which

I see the world.

You live

in the hollows of my bones,

in the lining of my skin,

in my dark center,

patient, waiting.

On Easter

     Photo by Mary Bach

This morning the moon  

begins to wane

in the lightening sky.

Mourning doves call to

you, you, you

but jays and wrens and barn swallows

are chirping too.

Outside the window

there are ten thousand branches, more

that were dead,

now, near bursting

with a million, million buds.

Don’t tell me there are no miracles.

Thank you for the prompt of a 55 word piece, and the subject of Easter in the Imaginary Garden with Flash 55 Plus.  This is also for Day #5 of PAD.  Happy Easter or Sunday or whatever you are celebrating today.