Knitting Moonbeams

alone in the arbour
knitting words and moonbeams
poems for cold winter nights

***

knit one, purl one,
swapping stories with the stars
the warmth extends

the_knitting_woman_painting_by_william-adolphe_bouguereau

For CDHK where the prompt is knitting.

The Arbour

the pink crocus twins
by the cannon ball tree,
seemed to take her side again,
their heavy fragrance
pollinating the emptiness around her;

every day in the still-dark,
sitting on the broken park bench,
the sky still splattered
in a million dew drops,
variegated dreams,
like apparitions,
fading slowly over the trees,
the flowers
whispering softly in her ear;

the cactus flower in its raspy voice,
chanting Ghalib and Blake,
wrapping heartache in honeyed metaphysics,
uncovering mandalas in her pain;

a solitary white brahmakamal,
wilting in the first breath of dawn,
an ephemeral prototype
of eternal love unborn;

and like a schoolyard bully,
dragging her petrified thoughts,
a trail of yellow button roses,
stretching to the arbour beyond;

where the bruised ivy grew,
where the tongue-tied lilies knew,
where ice cold fear crept,
where redacted memories flew;

every day in the still-dark,
the heady screams rising slowly over the trees,
the flowers whispered in her ear.

Linked to the Poets United midweek prompt “bullying”.