Memoirs of old writing days

Poems Pt. 2

Written in 12th Grade

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REDHEADED WOMAN

It was the passing of hours,

and she was a redheaded woman.

Flaming strands and with eyes that brand

the passage of time were in her hands.

Seconds ticked.

Minutes dripped.

Until the hours had passed

and you were still staring

at this woman

who made time stand still

yet go so fast.

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SWEET DREAMS

His voice rose and fell like the waves

a deep timbre rumbling like the mountains

but the poem's words lifted off its tongue

like a light flutter, an elegant twist with his mouth

His little boy tried to stay awake,

heavy lids drooping with unspoken weight

but he fell,

and fell,

and fell,

into a dark cloud with sweet bliss

And the man closed his mouth, kissed his son's head, and tucked him into bed where he slept.

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LOVELY PERSEPHONE

She wore flowers in her hair as she tried to explain,

"I am in love, Mother, surely you can't complain?"

Mother didn't of course, and who could blame?

Her daughter stood out in the sun, blooming; joy etched in her face, a dimpled cheek, rosy blush and shining eyes.

Mother stayed to the side and watched her daughter glow: a princess of the garden, Persephone in her home.

Mother waited as her daughter made a flower crown; and saw when she lit up and walked towards the man.

She placed her crown on a head; he tucked a flower in her hair — and Mother watched with bated breath as her daughter leaned up and kissed him.

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I AM FROM