Wounded Flowers
Hear the shuffled footsteps drag upon the cold alone
Looking for a distant stone an ancient memory
Dryness caked upon the ground with lives that never were
Looking for a trace of wounded flowers
Rows of dying blossoms dripping open in the rain
Satyrs running naked in the summer nights of love
Cracked and dripping idols close their eyes against the pain
Blinded aged still aware of time
Memories are distant beauty long since gone
Innocent reflections giving succor to her song
Ancient eyes of fire reflected burning bright
Once the wounded flowers stood upright
And so the shuffled footsteps stop at wounded flowers faded
Drooping in their mayonnaise jar upon a lover's stone
He hears a song tormented the simple tune a cry
Playing to unwinding ropes of time
John Coopey
Wed 23rd Sep 2020 10:39
Lovely imagery and rhythm, Josephine. I like the way it drifts in and out of rhyme.
(But where might I see these naked satyrs?)