Forsythia Blooms
We meet here again
but I am alone
shielded by forsythia
behind memories
forged and forgotten
in fields that have
seen snow and rain
lain desolate
before seasons change
and drifting winds carry
sounds of birdsong
to end winter's silence.
We meet again but
I am alone
with golden bells that
chime your presence
as they rise from the earth
warm once more.
© Neetu
-
Between sunset’s fiery streaks
slipping into the sea, and
the rising of the silver moon
is my twilight zone. -
I was leaning
by the window
standing outside
looking in— -
by the river
he looks lost
his face appears ancient
in rumination
under the sycamores’
embracing shade
thinks he might see
God -
your breath on my cheek,
as I hold you close to me,
silken infancy -
in a brief burst
of fiery red and gold
we burned….
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