ManicDDaily

When the Bloom’s Gone

I knew for certain when we wed
we’d make our bed in a dandelion head.
Even cowslips were too darn costly
for those who lived on kisses mostly.
For all that ever touched my lips
were yours and, with them, arms and hips,
and all those bits that make us whole,
the byways traveled to the soul.

We hungered so for lovers’ food
we met in fields aside the wood
to feast ourselves upon a meal
not yet stamped by church’s seal.

Now you have gone and I remain
with only tatters of dandelion mane.
I drape them on my arms and hips
but would find more cover in cowslips.

My name’s been dragged full through the mud;
my story fodder for gossips’ cud–
they tell me that a widow’s weeds
would have far better filled my needs

but I remember nights in bed
with auraed spore just overhead
like wisps of cloud and star at once–
oh yes, they’ve shredded these cold months–
yet still I wait in balding home,
edged by dry and sharp rhizome,
for to taste once more your love
with dandelion sky above.

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Here’s a poem for dVerse Poets Pub Poetics prompt by Claudia Schoenfeld featuring the cool digital images of Catrin Welzstein, one of which may be seen above. (More of Catrin’s work may be found at http://catrinwelzstein.blogspot.de)