[untitled]

A Poem by Melanie Bishop

free verse

The Promise

The Promise.

A promise made long ago
when we were young and
foolish...

Flowers so carefully pressed...
fast between milky white pages
once so sweet and fragrant...
forgotten now in books lost to
seasons grown cold...
while laughter hidden behind peacock
blue-green feathers
faintly can be heard still...
amid the swirl of embroidered gowns
that rustle empty...in dusty ballrooms
to music, no longer played.

Love letters once read
and reread folded over and over
tattered, pale rose scented pages...
hidden in brocade boxes
dance cards filled with but one name
long since yellowed...
misplaced in trunks
somewhere in the past...
buried deep, this love.

A promise made long ago
when we were young and
foolish...

Vows spoken in whispered
sighs, linger yet awhile...
endless love and devotion
have,as most things do
dimmed with time and age...
when youth's bloom was just a dream.

A promise remembered not
made long ago...
when we were oh,so young and foolish.