Where
Teardrops Hit the Ground
Each teardrop marks a forgotten pathway
Where the fading traces of the passing of love
stubbornly lingers
Memoirs of a whimsical serendipity circle back
through the overgrown, once well-trodden trail
Retracing the earlier steps taken from love’s higher ground;
ruminating the enraptured memories
flooding through the heart’s enchanting collage
Time is neither kind nor unkind,
when it’s misplaced somewhere between here and now
With the passage of time,
regret is her only companion
Missing pieces entangled with laments;
heartache entwined with unfulfilled needs
Wanting what was taken
far more than what is given
Searching for what is lost;
yet only discovering a hollow void too vast to fill
Compressed and preserved memories
once thrived within the pages
of love’s written reverie;
seeds sewn, budding genesis,
flourishing adore,
all nurtured in a garden of affection galore
A bouquet of pressed and dried rosebuds
has no memory
The sting of the prick from a thorny rose,
indelibly scars a yearning heart;
life trickles out with the pulse of each hidden sigh
Visible melancholy stains seep out
onto forgotten footprints,Where the fading traces of the passing of love
stubbornly lingers
Memoirs of a whimsical serendipity circle back
through the overgrown, once well-trodden trail
Retracing the earlier steps taken from love’s higher ground;
ruminating the enraptured memories
flooding through the heart’s enchanting collage
Time is neither kind nor unkind,
when it’s misplaced somewhere between here and now
With the passage of time,
regret is her only companion
Missing pieces entangled with laments;
heartache entwined with unfulfilled needs
Wanting what was taken
far more than what is given
Searching for what is lost;
yet only discovering a hollow void too vast to fill
Compressed and preserved memories
once thrived within the pages
of love’s written reverie;
seeds sewn, budding genesis,
flourishing adore,
all nurtured in a garden of affection galore
A bouquet of pressed and dried rosebuds
has no memory
The sting of the prick from a thorny rose,
indelibly scars a yearning heart;
life trickles out with the pulse of each hidden sigh
Visible melancholy stains seep out
evanescing like a piano’s notes decay,
mingling as the moment hesitates;
disappearing into the unkempt garden footpath
as if it were a dream that never happened
Fingertips delicately touch their tips in a quiet moment’s musing;
feeling for the vivid twinge of the dirt packed beneath my fingernails
Reflections of ever-present teardrops once hit the ground,
washing away your name scratched and carved in dust
where the earth will ache forevermore...
© 2012~2013 … Harlon Rivers …All Rights Reserved
