Week 15

Fruitless

To view a flower such as thee,
to garden home I'd stretch my feet.
I'd sit among the plants all day
and contemplate their windblown sway,
their soft green limbs that climb the sky,
and vibrant petals please the eye.
What use they serve I cannot know,
for waste of space is all that shows,
and while those small lives may still thrive,
for you that path is but demise.
The rose may grow within this world,
as fruitless life becomes unfurled,
but you who naught but see thy self,
in stylish dress and hoards of pelf,
can grow no more than mere seedling,
and be naught but the life you cling.

Week 14

Caught in a Moment

As night the lights give naught but silent shade
and tightness within gives way to new calm.
My hand held out awaiting her feather
touch, and peace stretches long in timelessness.

Glow at last illuminates the dark stage
and brings to light the radiance of...her.
She stands so still, as ice at circle's edge,
but contrast to that, beauty's wings unfold.

I may be stark and black in tux and tie,
but her! She floats within a sea of blue
silk, veins of gold, and ruby stitch. Each gem
sparks as dew on gossamer thread at dawn.

The fine hum of a viol fills the air
and the butterfly takes glorious flight!
Watch her flutter and float, the stage is hers,
she glides as time unfolds to my embrace.

If one were but to view her smiling face,
they'd think dance was ecstasy embodied,
but from seats below one sees performer's
grace, effortless on grandiose display.

A tinckling chime as water's trickle sounds,
and her fluttering by suspends, timeless.
Her long wings presented in flying arc,
perched upon me her leaf, the darkness falls.

And sound of breaking waves surrounds eternal.