What do I hold in my hand?

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

What do I hold in my hand?

Ashley Ng

Melbourne, Australia

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Artist's Description

11th hour 11th day 11th month

Artwork Comments

  • goddesswithin
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