I was born in the south. I live in the south and will die in the south. This is only a small part of the memories I share.
Distant, distance twigs fall in sweeping, blustery moan
Charlies, I'd be lover and scribe, and give Lilac a penny.
Your neck falls a silence of muted lover sobbing tone.
Lilac, you are sad in the sundown with pains the many.
Speak me soft, colored sighs
Help me stand trembling in horizons dark.
Your love, my soul so cautiously dies.
Lilac, you are sad in the sundown confession stark.
I despise myself, my cold heart of mime
I crawl from you, sweet Lilac, once we dared to care.
I am empty, Lilac, no tongue fit, no more time.
Now I'm neither here, there, and you, never where.
Lilac, sweet, sweet Lilac . . .You are sad in the sundown.
February 23, 2021__________________________________
Truth be told, I hate this piece. I know not what it means nor
who it signifies. I hope that you can. (K.A.)
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© 2021 Kenneth Avery
Gypsy Rose Lee from Daytona Beach, Florida on February 25, 2021:
Very lovely. Brought me back memories of my days living in Latvia when the lovely lilacs bloomed in May and the scent filled the air.