Join in please,
The petals of my rose,
Are opening slowly,
A new era dawning...
A creative adventure
Please share in this
As the gentle rain,
Leaves it's tear drops behind
On the red rose of memory...
An artist takes out his palette.
Begins to mix his colours,
The sun hides behind the clouds,
Birds fill the sky....
Their sound of contentment
Creating the perfect atmosphere....
soaks in the atmosphere around him
Longing for another human
To walk into his world,
And inspire, the first stroke
Of the morning...
He lays out his brushes,
In order of size,
Strokes the tip of each brush,
remembering every line of her face
her exceptional beauty and amazing grace
she would fill his heart to the brim
when she lovingly gazed up at him
she could make anywhere a happy place
she held a magical spell in her face
and he knew his brushes could bring her to life
as he slowly and lovingly recreated his wife.
So as the sun rises
The rose petals open
Spreading their arms
An invitation to a warm embrace
The scent of her perfume
Calls to the honey bee
He lights upon her petals
Now adorned in the morning dew
He probes her center
and drinks her nectar
Sated he flies back
to his hive
to share his love
and his longing
for the rose.
The day drifts slowly by.....
The rose now almost fully opened,
The perfume of his loved one,
still in the air,
A colourful butterfly
Sits on the end of his brush,
To his delight
he needed to capture the woman and child
the caring, the loving and even the wild
for there were so many facets to this rose
should her fragile petals be open or should they be closed
open symbolized her heart and her mind
closed embraced her love of mankind
mixing the colors with infinite care
the perfect shade for her long golden hair
his pencil he now takes from his bag,
An eraser should he not quite draw
The rose, the thorns, the petals,
To his liking,
Or should the sun move
He sips his drink.....
Looks at his work of art so far
He is far from pleased as yet
has he lost his touch
or has the memory faded
to what he wants her to be
or does he want to keep
her all to himself
a magic only he can see
he waits drinking in the last of the sun
knowing when its over they will be one
The lady of his dreams,
In his memory...
He takes out a picture of her,
Takes in a deep breath
Admires the butterfly,
Now, hovering over the flowers
His lady planted,
She who came along
Just at the right time
With a short brush stroke,
He touches the canvas once more
Smiling now of his memory
A rainbow appears in the sky,
The sun out, the rain falling
In diaganol lines
The artist, still sitting
Gazing at his canvas
Now with pleasure
Honey bee, butterfly, man
Shortage of humans...
No problem for him
Oh...to be this much in love with her always
Fondness of great memories shared on many days.
Love that has grown apart...and back again,
Love that has counted her a blessing...counted her a friend.
Silly Romantic notions fly high out of reach,
Slowly...Carefully...a new embrace for each.
With the dawn of another day that keeps on movin'
I see...these two ol' lovers...haven't lost their groovin'!
Not necessarily, my dear poet lorraine...Although I see where you would get that. The first sentences actually speak of love coming back again...! Very fun of you to take a look at this one a little closer...that's the mark of a gifted poetess
Thanks for mentioning it in a quote box!
Forever will they be
Though more in mind and spirit
A communicating force
An Aspect of love
No ordinary love
I wrote one a couple of days ago so I'm all poemed out but you can read it here http://hubpages.com/hub/wintry-night
wonderful i cannot believe, i could not be so explicit,,,, far too shy.... you did a wonderful job bravo, well done...... you are a lovely person wesleycox....
Thank you so much, here just for you
Roses are red
Poet Lorraine is cool
I know this is short
but it'll have to do.
Let's hear some more from you...you better at this "Love" poem stuff...than I am!
Aaagh. I can't. It sounds floopy and trite. I'll join it when I can.
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