One lavender morning…

… mist crept into a gala,

so pure, and when I am

alone, I remember this,

I think of it, and I picture

my father, in shorts,

picking lilacs in the

backyard, and I think

of their smell, and smile,

and move, and I sing

the praise of others,

even when I am untrue,

it brings with it a

sense of greater good,

of masterful moments,

and my tears aren’t

as salty then; morose

and steeped in fear;

no matter then, no one

mattered then, so I

hold it higher still,

among the last ones

I plan to keep with me,

this and her face, this

and her face in the sun,

that is my finality,

thank you for this poetry.

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~ by Shawn M. Young on January 16, 2017.

One Response to “One lavender morning…”

  1. Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.

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