A Vase
It masquerades upon the dark wood shelf,So plain creating space to isolate,
On center stage the vase is by itself.
For one long year it held this change of state,
Glass cleaned of dust which did accumulate.
No sign of contents which it cupped before,
Enduring idle days on basement floor.
The glass it curves the light which passes through,
And only hints to shapes which rest inside,
By bending both the edges and the hue.
Translucent truth obscured it tricks the eye,
By all the thorny stems and sticks to hide.
A simple shell in which the memories hold,
Contents arranged and left as they grow old.
The rose petal paper faded pink,
Such beautiful nostalgia colored thoughts,
Alone and dried they only make me think.
They’ve aged a year the little budded knots,
But back in time they pull my heart in shots.
I see the card of sympathy embossed,
Attached with prayers and signed with thoughts for loss.
No comments:
Post a Comment