Dead flowers..

A re-write of a old one. Samantha Fish is my beautiful muse.

Dead flowers.

Once we tried to catch the wind.

We loved the California fault line and the Pacific.

She loved the black velvet whiskey and I loved her.

I always brought her live flowers and I watched her,

plant them in the Monterey soil in her garden.

She told me,

I don’t want dead flowers Johnnie.

I want things that cannot die and

my favorite flowers are my roses.

They rebirth every Spring for me.

I remembered how the sun kissed her skin and

the coyness of her smile.

She was my morning blessing and evening kindness.

I was leaving for war and we prayed, we laughed and we cried.

I was a careless man and

I didn’t know yet.

War teaches us nothing and

life is in the front of us.

I returned to Monterey in the early Spring and

I bought fresh planted roses and rosemary.

I went to her house, sat on her porch and I watched the sun begin to rise.

She came out with fresh coffee and she embraced me.

She caressed the budding roses and she whispered.

I read your letters from Africa everyday and I prayed you were okay.

We paint pretty pictures and when we learn.

The world can be so ugly, can kill the kindness we know and feel.

Please Johnnie, stay with me.

Let’s plant the roses, the rosemary together.

Dear Johnnie, we can’t save the world,

all we can do, is what we can.

I saw everything in her eyes,  I saw radiant hazel eyes blessing me with love and kindness.

I told her, sweet baby, you were right. We cannot fix a world that doesn’t want to be repair,

maybe we are just like the dead flowers, slowly dying and to be forgotten?

She brought me closer and she sang to me.

“O my love, O my love,

the stormy sea must rest,

the seasons will change and we are endless,

we are a shred of grey, a shred of blue.

We will long for things gone, 

we will know the nightingale song and we will learn.

When love is near, hold on tight,

when the sea is near.

Become her dear friend.

If you ain’t dead,

we are not done yet.

Today is now, yesterday is gone.

Stay with me and I show you the sea,

we will find Big Sur,

learn new joy and rewrite a soldier story,

with a happy ending.”

I followed her to her garden and

we planted the roses and the rosemary.

I knew, a blessed man is allowed into the garden of a sweet woman.

                           Dancing Coyote

Author's Note

Thank you for reading.

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You weave intimate moments in your life into thoughtful endearing and wise poetry CP. Some illustrate tremendous heartbreak and others avenues of hope and redemption. You have traveled far in the world my friend and seen many things. Some perhaps no one should ever experience in the ravages of war. But in the end they lead you always back to love. CLE

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Carlos. If we are lucky. Life is kind to us. My father fought in the Vietnam and the Korea war. He got lucky. A kind woman made his life peaceful and good for the last ten years.

[John the Baptist]

If anything can compensate for having to go to war, coming home to such a woman is it. "If you ain't dead,/we are not done yet." Now there is a philosophy to live by. The roses and the rosemary make it even nicer.

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree my friend. We need something kind and sweet to return home to. Thank you for reading and the comment.

[willweb]

Who doesn't like a good love story, especially a poetic beauty like this one. This poem is what would win her heart on day one. Beautifully done sir.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you my friend for reading and the comment. If we are lucky. A kind woman will have concern for us.

[Maxwell Ryder]

Flowers wilt, but do not die in a woman’s garden - her heart. I’m a sucker for this kind of writing.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Maxwell. A very old poem. I was blessed when I was station at Fort Ord, California. I met kind and gentle people.

[Elaine]

I love this! I can't review with specific criticism because I feel too new - too unskilled. But I love this, I know that! I love the feels associated with this "story" - the emotions and reality of what it brings. Thank you for writing!

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Elaine. When a woman invite you into her garden. You are blessed.