Blossoms Beyond Birth:
A Stroll Down Memory Lane
The laying down of cobblestone,
on the walkway of life is not guaranteed.
What can only be assured,
is that along the way, if you stick it out long enough,
there will be flowers to bookend the pathway.
The path is in part determined by our own tenacity,
grit, and will to survive. You are its bricklayer.
Your thoughts are wet cement.
Your actions, the setting and hardening of that cement.
Nothing is set in stone,
both brims in possibility,
and echoes the adage,
of an old cautionary tale.
Rather than fret too far ahead to the future,
remember to stop and smells the flowers,
the rich aroma of love as a honeysuckle, precious to catch,
in its whimsically outspread petals of yearning.
Unlike friendship kept,
the redolent scent of romance,
was not meant to be plural in a bouquet,
but of a single rose, the smell saved to savor
A delightful and once-in-a-lifetime experience,
like the possession of doves at a wedding, meant to expand the grandeur,
of an already extraordinary moment, and make it last.
A gesture to say “My love for thee is fair and true”
and here lies the heather of the honeymoon.
A turning point in the days of our lives, one of pungence,
meant to carry us into the mystical and waving wisteria of married life…
and here I sit at the end of my days,
having been made better by all the flowers that I gave.
