Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Shy Blue Hydrangea

If life is a book
 you'd be those fragrant pages
that when opened
 scintillates all senses
words jump around in joy
 pictures form strips of
movie reel that sucks one
 back in time.
At times I wish,
 that you were real
At times I wonder,
 if you were born of a zephyr.
I chuckle at the thought
 that the sounds of silence
that fills all around me
 are the children that I have fathered
with you, for I know
 they grow in on me
Oh no, I am wrong,
 you are none of those.
Azure Hydrangeas,
 Those shy blossoms
are what you are
 That grows and fills
a winter-struck garden in my head
 A place that I peep inside
every day a little,
 but more so this day, every year.
Just to be hit by the lip-wrecking
 cold breeze coming from the garden (in my head)
Where you stay in full blossom and young
 despite all the old I grow and all the Grey I get...

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