Sunday, August 3, 2014


August 3, 2014

Beads of morning rain’s residue
Lingers on the lips of pedals
Of meadow roses
like tears cried from
And overnight storm
I only dreamed about
The aftermath of a shaken world
I feel as I stroll
This meadow path
Air heavy over me
And inside of me
My thirst barely quenched
From sipping these lingering leaves,
The pink pedals spread
To expose their yellow insides
While all around
Green and purple thistles
Make it impossible to touch
Each kiss I attempt
Bringing blood to my lips
Not bliss as I slip
Through the tips of leaves
To linger and look at
Those pink pedals
But not to touch,
Blisters of thirst on my lips
Instead of a kiss
As those pink flowers
Drip, drip, drip.

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