With memories of our beginning
kissed by the sun,
I made my way towards a single rose in the pond.
What sweet conjecture that fades
seems to align those who can bear
and soon the skies were filled with heron.
I watch as weeping willows embrace the ground,
now as it’s the utmost ebb of the night.
I smile and heave most gentle sigh,
upon gossamer clouds with a searching eye.
Was it impulse?
Or wisdom stringing us along;
I thought as I observed a single rose in the pond.
Photo credits: Tanya Marcuse
Posted for ‘Tuesday Platform’ @ Real Toads