Lilac May Basket
The lilac bush blooms
a tsunami of scent
inhaled, lungs full,
drowning…
drowning in memories
of each year of my life.
Knocking on the door
and sprinting around the corner
of my house as Mom
opens the door and retrieves
the lilac-filled May basket
I had made at school -- empty
until I got home and dashed
across the front lawn
and snapped and shoved lilacs
never realizing Mom watched
from the house and allowed me
time to run before she answered
the door to lilac scent.
The lilac bush blooms
a tsunami of scent
inhaled, lungs full,
drowning…
drowning in memories
of each year of my life.
Knocking on the door
and sprinting around the corner
of my house as Mom
opens the door and retrieves
the lilac-filled May basket
I had made at school -- empty
until I got home and dashed
across the front lawn
and snapped and shoved lilacs
never realizing Mom watched
from the house and allowed me
time to run before she answered
the door to lilac scent.
Diane Webster grew
up in Eastern Oregon before she moved to Colorado. She enjoys drives in
the mountains to view all the wildlife and scenery and takes amateur
photographs. Writing poetry provides a creative outlet exciting in images
and phrases Diane thrives in. Her work has appeared in The
Hurricane Review, Eunoia Review, Illya's Honey, and other
literary magazines.
Dear Diane,
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing "Lilac May Basket"
It was a joy to read. True love
at home shown here.
Yancy