purging the thorn

Hyacinth garden

lost in neglect

no veil to winter exposed

memories linger

behind me
as silence awaits

beyond prism lens

wisp of breath

vanquished into misty
with teary themes binding

hear the whispers

that echo against
the moon

long is the night

oblige these apparitions of me
bits of cloud
I have sheltered
into silent murmurings.
whispery promises
in lyric conversation
driven to ancient eloquent tears
of poets' image
purging the thorn from a rose

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allets's picture

Sense and Sound

"...hear the whispers/whispers/that echo against/the moon..." I can hear the whisper in the repetition - a powerful line and poem - Lady A