Saturday, 18 April 2015

Poem 17/30 That Moment When

That Moment When 

I was the only audience
the moment the first blossom dropped.
It felt like a secret,
a gift from a friend that made you wonder
if they were wishing for something more.
Dislodged by a breeze more mischief than spite
it parachuted down, riding the big air
somersaulting, turning tricks
before spotting a whisper-soft landing,
sure-footed as a veteran gymnast.
This gentle ending
spawned such a quiet sorrow,
a shy mourning for the end of beauty,
soft as thistledown,
a subtle blink in the face of death.


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