A Monument to Flowers
Soft spoken like the white of a lily as its petals are strewn by the wind.
Kisses that burst to blossom from the blood, so sweet and organic.
These tidy, tiny little moments
Whenceforth we make such monuments;
Great oaks and cedars.
As a bee taking sweet honey from the flower
Pollinates another letting the seed grow inside;
A herald of love.
A beehive to his queen.
When we gaze upon a rose.
We see what sweet moments would live in fate.
We grow our dreams with careful practice.
We never see the thorn before we grasp it.
Kisses that burst to blossom from the blood, so sweet and organic.
These tidy, tiny little moments
Whenceforth we make such monuments;
Great oaks and cedars.
As a bee taking sweet honey from the flower
Pollinates another letting the seed grow inside;
A herald of love.
A beehive to his queen.
When we gaze upon a rose.
We see what sweet moments would live in fate.
We grow our dreams with careful practice.
We never see the thorn before we grasp it.
♠ ♠ ♠
Life's full of moments we try to find. We try to make and sometimes do. But we always regret the moments that escape us. I wrote this poem about the idea that all moments, by their very nature are escaping us.