the pollen of days – sonnet

along the shores of time lay full of dust
the empty shells of words remained unsaid,
like iron blooms of thoughts, now kissed by rust
and left to die on Lethe’s silent bed,
on mossy pillows of forgetfulness –
and while their soul is slowly drained by tide,
our heart, touched by the hand of quietness,
becomes a wilted corner, dark and dried.
some think that, once words die, the heart is freed
and light above the spirit soars again,
refusing thus to see the actual weed
that’s growing widely on their inner plain –
the bones of hidden feelings still reside
within the living coffin of their pride.

© Liliana Negoi

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Comments
One Response to “the pollen of days – sonnet”
  1. cloxdaabsentee says:

    this is a nice accomplishment

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