What do I hold in my hand?
11th hour 11th day 11th month
A wilted flower
strangled, trodden
dried and folded
now preserved
between folded words
Why now return here?
Carried by paper
wilted as petals
scrawled with hope
aged by tears
Those dreams of ours,
once so delightful
I read them now -
sorrowed by age
are no longer ours
Such misery
lies in such strangeness
a lover now a stranger!
Who would have thought
of such a thing?
Yet I take the flower
brushed to my lips
and seek a scent
in its fragrance -
a memory of you
I ask of it now
but one question
which burns my days
and haunts my nights -
When will you return to me?
But the flower lies silent
it is but a flower!
and the words
are but ink
scrawled on paper!
They are but shadows
of a man I once loved
who is but a memory,
who cannot for all asking,
return from the dead
goddesswithin
this is a hauntingly beautiful piece it flows so thought provoking and lovingly. I especially love the the sixth paragraph beautiful! thankyou for sharing
Ashley Ng
Thanks Briena for your warm comments!
Kimberley Gifford
Wow this is beautiful, really stirred my emotions. Lovely work.
Ashley Ng
Thanks Kimmyjade
Suzanne German
Oh what a lovely tribute to somebody you love so much!
They say that a person is alive for as long as they are in our consciousness…..and in our hearts!
lovely
Suzanne
Ashley Ng
Thanks Kimmy and Suzanne. I wrote this piece for remembrance day…
Silvia Manuela
Very well written, Ashley.
girlinthestars
powerful, great ~*
Ashley Ng replied
Thank you! Glad you liked it…