Bittersweet

Sweet gifts charm a mother’s heart

Fistfuls of dandelions thrust into a glass

To brighten dark rooms like miniature suns

Yet the foreshadow of wilt

Curls freshness to swoon

With bittersweet knowledge

That one day dandelions will no longer be plucked

As votive offerings

One day glasses will be just glasses

For drinking bittersweet memories of innocence

 

 

David Trudel   ©  2013

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s