Intoxicating Dancers

April 24, 2015 in It is what it is - opinion column | Comments (0)


This morning I emerged from my front door to find that one of my rosebushes had seemingly exploded overnight with a family of hot pink blossoms. There’s nothing more disappointing than gorgeous blooms with no scent. Okay so maybe there are a *few* things more disappointing than that, but no matter in this case because this particular collection of blooms did not disappoint. Before I even stepped from the house, their gently sweet aroma met me at the threshold, bringing a smile to my face and inspiring this …


Lithesome and lean
all long lines
angles and curves.
Tossing back heads
spreading open
to the sun,
waving gently
beckoning me through the door
and into the day.
Last night they stood silent,
tightly wrapped against the
cool night air.
With sunrise and the
warmth of a desert breeze,
they explode,
choreography dictated
by the sun.
I see you in these blooms,
the soft lines smiling,
the creases around each petal
remind me of how
your eyes smiled.
The petals shall fall,
a drifting dance to the floor,
erasing the smile
there now.
The memory of your
dancing eyes’ smile


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