Rhododendron. Showy as dahlias. Profuse. Seemingly unstoppable. Reminds me of colorful food from a happy kitchen. Poems from daily prompts, continuing to scent National Poetry Month.
A dream of moving beyond printed borders into an open space which becomes a circle. He looks toward the bridge, through the fog, for some sign of reversal. Days in an open field full of cold air.
In the darkened room he says, What is gone cannot ever be removed from itself. She says, Shall we start over again?
Outside, they can hear the children laughing at the rolling cart of flowers.
Tuesday's session
ReplyDeleteA dream of moving beyond printed borders into an open space which becomes a circle.
He looks toward the bridge, through the fog, for some sign of reversal.
Days in an open field full of cold air.
In the darkened room he says, What is gone cannot ever be removed from itself.
She says, Shall we start over again?
Outside, they can hear the children laughing at the rolling cart of flowers.