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Opus

Poetry

a lonely Saturday conversation on the wrong side of the yellow bedroom curtains. ... || Wattys Winner 2018 ||

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Spring-child

183 17 16

by Orizielle

by Orizielle

                                    
                                              Some other day,
I will write of the lovers in black and white
and the beauty of their bodies.
                          But not today.
Today I can only wish
That the lover was me.
                          Tomorrow holds no promise
Every day will be just like today
Today was like all the yesterdays I have survived.

                          Morning dawns
In birdsong
That stings on my ear
Recurring, recurring, and repeat
It doesn’t let me sleep.
                          Flowers don’t grow on my grave
But I don’t mind.
I was never a Spring child.