Forgotten Petals
Forgotten Petals
As though out of the blue
The river meandered through
Providing gentle banks
Where we could rest against the heat
Of a hot July morning.
We felt as though we were the only souls on Earth
As our gazes fell upon a clearing,
At the end of a well worn walking bridge
Where it seemed feet no longer traveled.
The lush green of the glenn tempted us
As ancient limbs of wisened oaks
Provided the shade our bodies craved.
To rest in slumber against majestic trunks.
Despite the heat we ran like children
The dry wood of the bridge crackling under our weight
Our laughter ringing out
As a heated breeze blew by
And in that breeze there floated
A lonely petal on the wind
Catching the eye in wonder
Hot pink in the hazy air
And in the glenn a path was made
Forgotten flowers, now a carpet of pinks and reds
Trampled by the feet of ghosts
No longer there to be seen.
Goosebumps raised upon our arms
As we realized our desolation,
Not a house in sight for miles
Not a sound beyond the whisper of the wind.
Perhaps a wedding the day before
Perhaps a memorial for one
Who cherished the purity of the place
The forgotten flowers
Were not sharing their truth
Such a random moment caught in time
This silky carpet of petals
Kicked and blowing carelessly
Throughout the peaceful glenn
As though inturupting the sacred
The moment was not ours
And the petals gently reminded us
Their story was our own to tell.
And in their inspiration
So this piece was penned
So those lovely, silkened petals
Would not remain forgotten.
~Natasha Head~
Lonely in our travels
On a backroad long forgotten
We happend upon a rest stopAs though out of the blue
The river meandered through
Providing gentle banks
Where we could rest against the heat
Of a hot July morning.
We felt as though we were the only souls on Earth
As our gazes fell upon a clearing,
At the end of a well worn walking bridge
Where it seemed feet no longer traveled.
The lush green of the glenn tempted us
As ancient limbs of wisened oaks
Provided the shade our bodies craved.
To rest in slumber against majestic trunks.
Despite the heat we ran like children
The dry wood of the bridge crackling under our weight
Our laughter ringing out
As a heated breeze blew by
And in that breeze there floated
A lonely petal on the wind
Catching the eye in wonder
Hot pink in the hazy air
And in the glenn a path was made
Forgotten flowers, now a carpet of pinks and reds
Trampled by the feet of ghosts
No longer there to be seen.
Goosebumps raised upon our arms
As we realized our desolation,
Not a house in sight for miles
Not a sound beyond the whisper of the wind.
Perhaps a wedding the day before
Perhaps a memorial for one
Who cherished the purity of the place
The forgotten flowers
Were not sharing their truth
Such a random moment caught in time
This silky carpet of petals
Kicked and blowing carelessly
Throughout the peaceful glenn
As though inturupting the sacred
The moment was not ours
And the petals gently reminded us
Their story was our own to tell.
And in their inspiration
So this piece was penned
So those lovely, silkened petals
Would not remain forgotten.
~Natasha Head~
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