Lifting of the veil,
Scars faced towards the sun,
Eyes freed from the scales,
In the serenity there is none.
There stands a fountain
In the middle of a growing garden,
Flowing like a river,
Waters so sweet, never bitter.
Flowers beds arranged in rows,
Beyond the gate with hanging keys on a bow
Called "Blessing"
After the walking path of forgetting
The roses that bled
And graying sunflower beds-
When all those things are gone,
Quiet and simple is the new song
That was given to me,
The thorns of those flowers turned into a key.
Rejoice, the trees grow leaves with branches in bloom.
Rejoice, the seeds that were sown in the hours to weep give fruit soon.
Oh, the gentle breeze on calloused wounds,
Oh, the new air to breathe would soon obtund.
Seated at the fountain is a new wellspring,
Laid to rest are yesterday's flowers; the death of past's song brings forth life of a new beginning.
YOU ARE READING
Last Year's Flowers
PoetryIn the third installment, Last Year's Flowers, MissReads19's poetry takes on a new shape through storytelling. Crafted from fragments of poems written through time, Last Year's Flowers takes the reader on a fictionalized journey of love from beginni...
