I once picked eight buds
From grasses beside a stream
Five I gave to her
The others I kept for me
Pressed between a book’s pages
.
A snowmelt stream flows
Unmindful of time passing,
Brownish leaves drift past
.
Come twilight, come mist,
This dark cerulean sky
Seeks to arouse us
In a flame of enchantment
As the night draws us closer
.
Two hearts (together)
Beat now as one (forever),
Treasured memories
.
Lost between pages
Follies of the heart linger,
A long-held tear falls
.
(Knowing life’s mistakes
Were only a life-lesson
Not a life-sentence)
.
We’ve espoused a Way
Where the Light is always pure,
Notwithstanding these
Sorrows yielded from failures
Clung tightly to ‘til they fade
.
Brown leaves still drift past
The purple wisteria,
Solitude beckons…
.
I once picked eight buds
From grasses beside a stream
Five I gave to her
The others I kept for me
Pressed [between] a book’s pages
.
richard lloyd cederberg
1/2018

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