A Sprig of Dried Flowers

Last night, I found

a sprig of dried flowers

beneath my dresser,

and I confess

that I do not know

from whence it came.

There’s no dim memory

to be jarred,

no scent to rekindle

and old moment,

just dried flowers,

ever-drying more.

A shade between blue

and purple, like my feelings…

sad and mystified

by something so

beautiful.

They had fallen beneath,

but I saved them

from crushing while

beneath my feet.


© CGT, 2018.

2 Comments on “A Sprig of Dried Flowers

Talk to me.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: