wherefore

Your words wither and fall,
just like leaves,
paving my lips and my skin with their death –
never pictured myself to be
a graveyard of sort,
but GOD! that feels obscenely good...

I rake them
(your words)
and I turn them into yellow scented piles of memories
in which my thoughts can wallow,
like a bunch of crazy teenagers
just escaped from school,
eager to borrow the fragrance of your mind.

From there,
from the middle of a random mound of words,
I like to stare at the sky
and marvel childishly about its blue endlessness
and about the way some stray sunbeam reflects itself
in the humblest of surfaces
(my eye)
imbuing it with the purest of lights.

I guess that would explain
why during fall I am unable
to burn the piles of raked leaves in my yard...




Poetry by Lilly Negoi
Read 632 times
Written on 2013-01-26 at 20:55

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countryfog
We have a poet - Donald Hall - who wrote a number of wonderful poems about leaves because of the many memories they evoked. He could never burn them either. My favorite season, one of my favorite Lilly poems.
2013-01-27



Where it not for this adorably pleasurable poem one would think it was laziness. I love the feel and tone generated by the lines and the vivid warmth brought by the imagery & emotion. Applauded, Lilly. Thanks for sharing.
2013-01-26