Amidst blooms that conjure days of long ago,
A dirge of sorrows sung in whispers low,
Within the meadow's clasp, I pause to view,
A vessel of despair, yet hope anew.
The petals sway, like memories they bind,
Each bloom a chapter from the heart and mind,
A symphony of colors, nature's art,
A tapestry of feelings stitched in part.
I stand within this field, a soul set free,
Seeking solace, a balm for wounds that be,
The weight of yesteryears upon my chest,
Yet hope's small ember burns, never to rest.
The meadow's beauty, balm for aching soul,
Nature's embrace, where healing finds its goal,
Midst blooms, a fleeting calm that bids me stay,
To catch my breath and linger, if I may.
These blooms, they sing of love and loss profound,
Of dreams that rise and fall, the heart unbound,
In stillness, truth unfurls its quiet flight,
Through darkness, strength emerges into light.
So in this moment, midst blooms and dreams,
A pilgrim's journey through life's flowing streams,
Within this meadow's grasp, I've surely found,
A sanctuary for my heart, love unbound.
YOU ARE READING
The melancholic whispers : A meadow's tale of sorrow and hope
PoetryThis poem captures a vivid and emotive scene set within a meadow, using nature as a backdrop to convey complex emotions sorrow and hope. The poem is beautifully evocative of the interplay between sorrow and hope.
