Musings of a Meandering Mind

  Like a blooming Dahlia, opening wide to the sun. Each petal opens, boasting its color, creating sheer beauty. Warmth in my bosom grows, tightening my chest, shortening my breath. Filling me with excitement, a burning passion, pure bliss. Love. Like a wilting sunflower, after darkness falls. Weighted down by the center of its being, tearing its grounded roots, leaving a gaping hole. A painful ache inside me grows, a hollow echo crying, vibrating throughout me. Welling tears burn my eyes, a knot in my throat, pure despair. Grief. Like a wild rose emerging, finding the light after a forest fire. Peaking through the ashes, looking up at the sun, vibrant color emerging from the dark. Love and experience feed me, a new me emerges, pure intrigue. Life. 

  Father time carries me further and further away From the last moment I kissed your lips, said goodbye We approach the second turn around the sun. The void you’d left in my world remains And life just continues to move on.   As I experience life without you. New memories and moments are made. Yet, at night, I close my eyes in sweet anticipation For the past, an image, any image of you to surface In my thoughts, in my mind’s eye, in my dreams.   Hoping for a moment A still, a shape, an image. Caught like a dragonfly in amber or a faded black and white photograph. To see your face, your eyes, your lips, that smile.   Hoping for a memory playing like an old film. Maybe not as clear as I’d like but happy to relive a moment in my mind. Captured, cherished deep inside my heart.   To touch your face, to kiss your lips To hold you tight throughout the night. To feel your warmth, your heartbeat under hand. To look into your eyes and see th

 

The leaves of summer turn crimson, ochre, brown. Leaves softly flutter, dance float gently to the ground.  The morning air so crisp, brisk, cool. Children ramble, meander saunter blissfully toward school. The reveries of summer gone, faded lost. Replaced with the veracities of school, work preparation for the first frost.  Harvest moon shining, vibrant bright. Days grow shorter, decrease diminish into a cool dark night. The icy north wind blows, blusters calls. Beckoning Winter's advent, appearance arrival as the last golden leaf falls.  Linda Brailean 2001