Roses Behind Closed Eyes

Roses

You ask me to tell you of the roses in my garden
Instead of colors or the sunlight
I ask you to close your eyes so I can whisper
Of the heady scent that lines my driveway
The crunch of gravel the only sound
As petals brush across bare shoulders
You ask me to tell you of the roses in my garden;
They’ve overgrown like a runaway dream.

Time Elapse

A collaborative poem between me and Syl65! Syl was one of the first poets I met here on WordPress and his love poems are particularly tender and never fail to impress. Please visit his site to explore more of his work!

Mayan Calendar

The days are flying by
And my calendar can’t keep up
Just got the sunscreen ready
Now there’s a sale on winter coats

Halloween costumes are shaking
Spidery webs and monster claws
But the leaves are still green
And I feel freshly thawed

I think I’m hearing turkeys
Gobble, gobble, gobble
Christmas decorations up already
My mind is starting to wobble

Champagne at year’s end
Although I’m still in summer
Should I be like a child sighing?
“Oh, what a bummer!”

Fly by days
Lead into fly by nights
Did the Mayan calender really end?
Or is there no end in sight?

So many thoughts
A-whirling in my head
Time to stop thinking of time
And simply go to bed.

Kinship

Butterflies

Two visitors on new treads are we,
Whom live and breathe so differently.
Courteous greetings we do exchange,
Finding each other curious and strange;
You smell of southern breeze and hospitable folk,
I of northern ice and more suspicious looks.
Yet gladly we sup the same nectar dew
And in this spring, we are renewed.
From cocooned sleep we’ve both shed the past
And walk together on a summery path.

Proposal

If I gave you a thimble, would you give me a needle?
And if I hummed you a tune, would you sing me a song?
On a summer day, in the shade of your presence
I bask in the coolness of your touch
And point our clasped hands toward the sky, to ask:
Now here is our road, would you journey with me forever?

Gnome Trouble

Once I saw a gnome in the garden
When summer was high and I was a-yardin’
With lovely ears and an impish smile
Eyes full of tricks and rosy-faced guile
He hustled me out of a foot of grass by the fountain
By claiming he’d raze the mole hill mountain
But when the leaves fell, still it still stood
And I realized, he’d hoodwinked me good
But by then the Missus had moved in with the babes
Now I avoid that patch with the lawnmower’s blades
And wonder if a treehouse would suit better
My conniving, parental little go-getter