Never A Wasted Moment

Just a random piece I wrote whilst laying in bed and thinking.

If I could capture every wasted moment,
Every wilted flower caught in the chain link fence of my life.
I would weave a crown of daisies and thyme,
And I would loop it around your brow.

Such a beautiful thing, no woman has ever worn,
For this is so many things before it has become anything at all.
These seconds, and hours without purpose,
Slowly metamorphosing into what they were always meant to be.

For these fragments of still-life, though spent in seeming aimlessness,
Were always passed with thoughts of you.
These dull seconds, bound together with the stems of dying flora,
Shall breathe their time back into what now makes them whole.

And in the waning rays of moonlight, the petals will become vibrant once more,
The stems, firm, and the scent of pollen will drift 'cross your nose.
For no moment could ever be wasted, when full of your memory,
And the beauty of those idle hours shall carry on uncontested, as the circlet grows ever more with each day.

From now until my last breath,
Every time a flower blooms, it will be fed with my longing.
Watered with my desire.
And when the time comes to breathe my last, I pray you lay me down on a bed of roses,
Of which will smell faintly of morning glories and thyme.
For then I shall know, as I sleep...someone's wasted days were as full of beauty as mine own.

© 2014 Joshua W. Harris

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Reviews

jacob erin-cilberto

"for this is so many things before it has become anything at all"

damn i like this...to nurture something before it has become...everything fed with longing until my last breath....and the idea that someone's wasted days were as full as beauty as mine own.

days can be beautiful, life can be beautiful even if we do nothing with it, except feel its presence.