ROSEBUDS
From the garden's end, to where I knelt,
Rosebuds, rosebuds in the spaces;
Ripened from warming, sun-swept graces,
Hardened by the multitude of Winter faces,
(Blossoms confused by a frozen melt).
I know just how the rosebuds felt.
TOO MANY LILACS IN THE BLOOM
too many lilacs in the bloom,
over-watered, drowned to doom;
too many mindless, swirling leaves,
they flood the overhanging eaves;
Too many bursts of scalding light
Scorch the graceful fall of night;
And beggars, poets strew the ground,
Too little poetry to be found
DUST COLLECTED
The attic creaks as I step in
And light blazes forward through the smoky dim
Reflecting with a gleam off the lock
of the chest carved out of rock
my chest tightens as I approach
the key in hand, its icy gold
it slides in with satisfying click
a lump in my throat as I lift the lid
and a sad smile as I look in
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