Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Stilly the Flow'r is Dying...




Stilly, the flow’r is dying
Spring’s feathery first-fruit
Under bare branch are lying
Returning to its root

Stilly the hours are garnered
To Storehouses of Time
Its rivers running rampant
Abhorrent with sublime

Stilly, autumn is waning
The brook cradles its grief
The breeze, a somber maiden
Severing limb from leaf

Surely, hearts are a garden
For as life’s seasons pass
Stilly its petals gather
Where memories amass

© Janet Martin

My day did not turn out as I thought it would. Due to an unexpected visit to the Dr. with Matt (nothing serious) and then car trouble on the way home (our mechanic is a few doors down from us:-) I did not make it to my friend's mom's funeral. Instead Matt and I began trimming away the tired blooms in front of the house.

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!