December Rose

'It has to be an old secret,' he thinks,

waking up cold and terrified of the night.

Reality is failing, bending, it's warping;

a record left in humid air and sunlight.

'It has to be hidden out there,' he whispers,

flashing visions of waves and glowing orbs.

Sanity is flimsy, hearts are rose-petal soft;

a frail sheet of ice the ocean storm absorbs.

'It has to be somewhere inside,' he chants,

feeling through shadows and dusty oubliettes.

Sunken in a solitary alcove it lay weeping;

trapped in nooks that one easily forgets.

'It has to be where I cannot go,' he cries,

kicking up dust and heaving a stale atmosphere.

Currents churning under skyward surging waves;

a relic still waiting with petals pale and sheer.

Author's Note

(H. K.)

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

So gentle use of words and they held great power over the reader. You brought the reader into deep thoughts and hard memories. Thank you Anna for sharing the amazing poetry. I enjoyed this one.
Coyote