I saw your grave today
Apart on the side of a hill.
Somewhere between the
cemetery and the road.
As if sliding away
Might mean you’re not
Quite there.
We all are I suppose,
Somewhere between
That resting place
And journeys road.
Fresh tilled earth
Piled higher than the others
Catching my eye.
But it was my mind that
Grabbed hold of those
Plastic poinsettias.
Glittering bright in the
July sun.
Set there at your feet
For reasons unknown.
Bright red and white
like eyes of those so loved but left behind.
Plastic poinsettias,
my mind couldn’t fathom…
No roses, no lilies
Not the everyday beauty
Most of us define
Plastic poinsettias
How could I judge
A love so deep,
nor the memory behind them.
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Published by Artemis On Fire
Successful entrepreneur, mother of two, lover of Self, maker of magick!
Spiritually raw and vulnerable. I've traveled the world, well parts, with much more to see. Mined the deepest depths of grief, the field of infinite possibilities and sometimes visit that thin veil beyond space and time.
A lover of love with no lover, yet loads of really great stories and an always hopeful heart. If you aren't seeking the dream then I hope you're living the dream!
Follow me down the rabbit hole, let's drink the intoxicating elixir of life, discover our true selves, our passions, desires and most of all, THE MAGICK! The magick inside that is uniquely you, uniquely me. The juicy mojo-magick that takes us from living ordinary and opens us to the extraordinary!
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Wow, beautiful poem. I love the line that we all are “in between the resting place and journey’s road.” I can definitely relate to that feeling. Thank you for posting this.
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You’re very welcome! Thanks for the comment & follow. Enjoy the journey!
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