A Year of Poems – Day 233

Forget, the word falls often as a curse
Lamenting all which passed from memory
Old friends, a chore, or sometimes something worse –
A game, a play, an anniversary –
Lives forgotten hunting for something less.
With age it gains another note – a balm
A healing salve to dull the pain of time
When rhymes are lost in the press of minutes
A calm unlooked for at life’s last limit
Before all the pain can be forgotten,
But the word still curses all the blossoms
Fallen from the tree which like seeds will grow
Products of death, decay, a sudden fall
But blooming with unlooked for life. Knowing
the forging pain. Petals both know and forget.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s