There are
no Seasons
to hold onto;
ask The Rose.

I can smell the
spicy freshness of Fall,
hovering above my lips…
before kissing the
pink of Summer goodbye.

There is
no cheapness
in the love of Seasons.

We strip down,
when all the petals have blown;
falling into
the rest of our lives.

Ask The Rose
about Winter,
ask the bird that sits
at the side of our grave
eating the seeds of rose hips.

growing again
into the depths
of Spring, into
the Seasons of our lives;
our skin and bones.


11 thoughts on “Pieces

  1. histeve433 says:

    Reblogged this on nothingunderthesun41 and commented:

  2. Beautiful! We are only entering into Spring now, but it is swelteringly hot!

  3. tenderlytina says:


  4. hi Steve was right this is beauitful! I am taking some blogging time off to read blogs and your was the first one after Steve’s I’ve wanted to store posting so I could read and glean! I need some wisdom and find this amazing how the rose just is a rose and we should just be!

    • Thank-you MichelleMarie for such kind comments! I’m happy to share and be shared. You make the poem sound peaceful.

      • I love your blog! I feel like I post too much and create so many comments that I don’t get to read really excellent writing such as yours! I love the Steve Hi reblogged this! Now I’m following you!
        I also love how cathartic blogging can be! I’ve experienced a lot of ah-ha moments! Have a wonderful day! 😄🙆

        • Glad you like it, thank-you! I thought it was a bit plain and unorganized, so your comment means a lot to me. So many beautiful blogs on here, and yours is lovely, thank-you for following.
          May you be well,

  5. mihrank says:

    this is a classical art of words – First class:)

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