Bluebonnets
I am left empty
In a field of Bluebonnets
Whose roots reach for the salt of my eyes.
In a field of Bluebonnets
I lay,
Lay,
Lay.
Flowering hues of me turn Blue,
Smearing the sunshine yellow-oranges of my memories of you.
Flowering hues of me turn Blue
As I drift away on my bed of bonnets.
Tuesday 28th May 2024 12:21 am
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on June 2025 Collage Poem: You Watched the Trains Come, You Watched the Trains Go
2 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Poetry Is Pain
7 hours ago
David RL Moore on Too late too late
23 hours ago
Rolph David on Love The Light, Embrace The Rain
23 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on still, the Earth breathes
1 day ago
Marnanel Thurman on The roads taken
1 day ago
Red Brick Keshner on where shadows do not drown
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Empty Streets of Ego’s March
1 day ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on The Policemen Arrest The Men.
1 day ago