I peek around the window casing. I must not let them see,
They will tuck their brilliant color when they see—it is me.
I still have tattered remnants locked in a childhood vault
Of a friendship that was broken, it was nobody’s fault.
But if I try to resurrect how it once was with us
I’m not sure if I should smile, or if I want to cuss.
When I glimpse their little faces and see them nod their heads.
Back come all the gentle thoughts combined with what I dread.
____
Thoughts of patient-plaited blossoms, I wear as a golden crown
And a feverishly-plucked bouquet, of soft and yellow down.
I remember all I longed to know as I lounged in a golden field,
Secrets only a dandelion knew and only a dandelion could reveal.
There were things told to me through spectral fluff
That I breathed upon with a gentle puff
Perilously one parachute clings to the vine.
Giving sacred promise – that he will be mine.
So loved by one, though no longer by three…
I’m not disappointed, if that’s how it must be.
___
Oh I know they’re so jolly in hot sunny weather,
And with all of the grand times we’ve had together
When did that fast bond get so twisted with pain?
To a malignant affinity of disgust and disdain?
I’ve never expressed it, but they certainly know
Cause they duck and fold wherever I go
They bend and cower and play hide-and-seek
And when they think I’m not looking…
They have a quick peek.
So unfold for children, when they come to play
But stay distant from me, it’s better that way
Though skittish you are and though you may hide
I know that you’re there and you’ll always abide!
A blessing in one form, a curse in another
Still a most precious gift from a child to her mother.
10 comments:
I love this Roberta....beautiful. I think it's the first piece of poetry that I've read on your site. If there's more, I'll have to check it out.
buffy said...
Roberta....the ever present quandry. Do we leave them for their bright color....or KILL THEM before they take over the world.
I certainly understand the conflict.
This is a lovely post. I'm glad I visited today!
Hi joy, I occasionally write poetry but not often. My favorite is a simple two-liner that I wrote Jan 9, 2007 called "My Timepiece" if you'd like to take a peek.
As I already told you, I really liked your "Storm" poem. Many blogs this week have poems. I wonder if they are propagated by pollen or ocean tides or weather.
Hi buffy, if you're glad, then I'm glad, dear girl.
I like your poetry. It is pertinent for me as these yellow beauties I treasured as a child are now invading my yard. I cannot get to the source in the parkway across the street where the owner allows them to flourish, so they're trying to move into my yard. My feelings for them have changed.
I left my dandelions to grow and when my four year old grandson came to visit, he darted about the yard, picking the ones gone to fluff and blowing on them. "Make a wish, Memere!" he'd shout as he plucked each one. They will forever be "wish flowers" to me now.
joared, if you've grown not-so-fond of dandelions, may you be comforted by thinking about the season of their bloom being soon past. Thanks for commenting.
Hi pauline. Cute note. Kids see stuff in such a different vein. But dandelions are exactly that -- "Wish flowers". My wishes I can't tell you or they won't come true but I can tell you Hub's cause his wish is so ridiculous the strongest genie could never grant it. He wishes they would be GONE!
Roberta,
Dandelions bring me such good memories and bad as well. My sons and grandkids have picked me handfuls every week for years and years...and always during the night...Mr. Nobody has robbed them! For shame!
Those were the good memories! And the bad I'll keep for another day!
Have a great week, Roberta.
Thanks for visiting matty. I hope my silly little poem made more happy thoughts surface than sad ones. Granted dandelions have a 'nice' side, and a 'not-so-nice' side, so I can see how they might prompt rather mixed feelings.
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