The trilliumverate I planted near the root cellar haven't bloomed yet - it's been probably 5 years. I love the plants anyway, but this makes me want more - maybe it's the Tennyson.
Crimson petals, the colour of blood that falls like tears from my broken heart His last words spoken, harsh and sting like an arrow as it cruelly pierced my breast.
Yes some days are better and a little easier, then a whole lot of memories come flooding back and once again I am aware that something is missing & the want & need return.
4 comments:
The trilliumverate I planted near the root cellar haven't bloomed yet - it's been probably 5 years. I love the plants anyway, but this makes me want more - maybe it's the Tennyson.
Crimson petals,
the colour of blood that falls
like tears from my broken heart
His last words spoken, harsh
and sting like an arrow
as it cruelly pierced my breast.
dw- are they planted too deep? Or just moody little guys unwilling to bloom? Tennyson is classic, but sometimes too long for my taste.
dianne- sad, but your heart will mend in time. What is life without a few arrows?
-Corby
Corby-
Yes some days are better and a little easier, then a whole lot of memories come flooding back and once again I am aware that something is missing & the want & need return.
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