Thistles
My heart is stirred by memories
the tune of song or still of pic
asking if I would commit again
seeking what brought me to that place.
Why would I want to bring it back
from the realm of yesterday
the pain, the angst, the loneliness
that came with love I thought I had?
There must have been a reason then
cause to want to twist the frames
flesh to mold, one to the other
seeking heat to meet to the chill.
Laughter echoes in recollection
smiles set with rectus grins
statues set in memory's grave
rapport gone, reflection tainted.
Don't take this for condemnation
the joy was pure inside each moment
just as the wounds were inflicted
accompaniment to past relating.
Now I wonder if roads could reverse
clocks rewound to seek the pleasure
thickets lure with heart's reflection
when the thistles surround the flowers
© 2017, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170405.
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