Sophia Marie Rose: Poems (2024)

Your fingers caressed the keys
like a gentle waltz
I was utterly transfixed
by the way you carried a conversation
I shivered at each note
the melody resonated within
You were telling the piano about me.

As sweet as summer rain
Elusive like a melody
From a dream.
I waited for you
On the bridge
I thought I heard your voice.

The lake donned lily pads like brocade. The gossamer blades of grass sparkled with dew that fell like crystalline tears. Diaphanous clouds drifted lazily across a rose painted sky. The ambience of it all caught my breath. With the steady hum of the cicadas mingled with the resonance of the hummingbird perched on the dogwood tree, I was utterly transfixed.

The sweet cadence of your voice lulls me to sleep like a gentle lullaby.

We are just strangers now. It hurts to be treated like I'm just anyone.
If you saw me walking past you on the street, would you call my name? Or would you let me go, as just another blur of memory, of once was.

When I look back at the beauty and vitality of the moment, I see only a mere façade. The euphoric moment was glorified, the reminiscence was made far more resplendent and expressive than that autumnal dawn all those seasons ago. I cherished a memory but built the lost pieces from the depths of my mind. The fabricated recollections are all I have now. The fragments of a lost time where the world was bathed in a warm incandescent glow.

Just like the moonflower, I too, wilt at dawn’s first breath.

Let's turn back the dials of time. Tranquil waves lull my wandering mind. Ebb and flow, just like my thoughts. A reminiscence better left forgot. You were transient, a pearl in the sand. Washed away, slipped through my hands.

When she laughs, it is a musical sound that thrums and resonates with the trill of the hummingbird, the rippling of the lake, the falling petals of the cherry blossom tree, her voice a melody that resounds within their heart.

Artists can only dream of emulating your smile.

I observed outside the windowpane in contemplation while marveling at the nature between the radiant sunray, and the blooming myrtle.My coffee was brewing in the French press I have owned for as long as I could remember. The view of the garden gave me the impression of a pastel dream, a melancholy longing for some forgotten reminiscence.

I hope I do not fade away
like the stars at dawn.
A footprint
left on the desert sand;
a dream that is lost to memory.

What I remembered with vivid clarity were your eyes. One eye represented the emergence of dusk after a magnificent storm, and the other the break of dawn over a tranquil sea.

What of nightfall? What of the blanket of midnight that wraps around us all so tightly?
My darling, my love for you is as constant as the rose painted sky.