At First He Pulled Me

The end of one of my great loves. I find things change when the wisteria blooms...

 

At first he pulled me

Down and said all the things I’d dreamt

He’d say,

And so willingly I went –

Body still at his command,

Mind frantic in his absence.

In the chill of winter he had me

In sunlight

And we lay atop the sheets sweating

From the heat.

Now even the air is green

And the wisteria hangs heavy

In it. I am

Captivated, this time, along

With the world,

By this, my favorite flower.

Truly,

Anything so complete and passionate

Is doomed to short life.

I have tried to gather these

Blossoms and keep them

On my kitchen table,

To entice them to grow –

I pick up their petals daily.

These beautiful, sweeping things

            I beg them to grow,

Yet the blossoms are fading and

Your scent has left me.

Author's Note

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