The sweetest pang of loss.
The smell of freshly baked bread
drifts into memory.
The curl of an eyelash remembered
from a summer past.
Berries warm to the touch, ripened by
the sun’s great affection.
The scent of damp earth as the sky spills.
Melancholy rumbles of distant thunder.
The sultry flashes of heat lightning,
and passionate embraces afforded.
Again and again.
Leaves swirling on the tidy ground.
The twisting and turning comes
and the gates close.
They look back with eyes heavy.
Whispered prayers of desperation
float, not up, but somehow parallel.
Clinging to a tightly gripped hope of…one day.
Take me back. Please.
- Follow THE CONSOLATION OF MIRTH on WordPress.com
Top Posts & Pages
- RT @LifesBook_Ceo: Am I the only person wondering why this chicken is so damn big 🤔🤔🤔 https://t.co/ZIWmEL2h2w 1 week ago
- RT @pakalupapito: here’s to all the kids who have never found their name on anything in a souvenir store 1 week ago