Thursday, 23 July 2015

Bride

    

Damn, but she was beautiful

lissome as a reed
bending with autumnal
breezes, billowing gossamer seed,
perfumed with sugar must
of fallen leaves
her blush, star dusted,
my Eve

the sand of years,
sifts down relentlessly,
while in my memory's tears
her reflection changelessly
belies the sadness of

 senility.


Bryan D.Cook  Ottawa, Spring 2015

1 comment: