A poem about searching for things that have gone missing
Quote by author: If love had a thousand faces, they would all look like yours
Your visage is what I'd seek first in my lost and found, box.
I'd feel for the corners of my box, with nimble fingers
eyes closed I'd brail the contours of your missing face
like a schoolchild pining for a spark of self esteem, I'd linger
on words last spoken, before you faded out of place
If love had a thousand faces I'd see only yours for all eternity
lost in a sea of despair, I'd search for you far and wide
like a mother craving for a child's return, I'd scour the city
rummaging the streets, look in all the places you could hide
If love had a thousand faces I would never look for anything new,
I'd take delight in the likes of you and only you.
AND YES, I AGREE...! MEMORIES ARE OFTEN KEPT IN THAT SPECIAL PLACE WHERE WE KEEP THEM UNDER LOCK AND KEY, UNTIL...EVERY-ONCE-IN-AWHILE... WE OPEN THAT BOX OF 'LOST THINGS' AND FIND THEM. A FINE WORK THAT IS VERY RELATABLE, MYSTIC, ENJOYED VERY MUCH. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...HIS+INSPIRATIONS
"If love had a thousand faces I'd see only yours for all eternity" Now this sounds a bit like Emily Dickinson, or Percy Bysshe Shelley. Lovely sentiments Vienna. Enjoyed. Thank you for sharing. r
Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on January 25, 2024
Shows great dedication. A love that will be continued long beyond the grave.
The blue rose reminds me of something my ex-wife told me. Her father, a World War I veteran who had a wealthy medical practice with companies in Dayton Ohio. When she was about 10, in 1955, he became incompetent and moved his family to his mother's house across the street from my junior high school where I first met her.
She said he never worked again but raised roses and bred them. Said that he had created a green rose. While I met the man once in a veterans home, I never saw any of the roses my wife spoke of.
Ron
Reviewed by JoAnne Cromp (Reader)
Reviewed on January 25, 2024
Stunning, delicate heartfelt imagery Vie.
Have a beautiful day):
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The blue rose reminds me of something my ex-wife told me. Her father, a World War I veteran who had a wealthy medical practice with companies in Dayton Ohio. When she was about 10, in 1955, he became incompetent and moved his family to his mother's house across the street from my junior high school where I first met her.
She said he never worked again but raised roses and bred them. Said that he had created a green rose. While I met the man once in a veterans home, I never saw any of the roses my wife spoke of.
Ron
Have a beautiful day):