Roguing

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Ripped from her victory garden
With promises of Roses & Violets
Sugar & Sweet compliments

Tiny poems as pollen

Soon left alone, till in hand
Thistle seed as some parting gift
So goes love to life

Roguing now, she

Mothering nature
In the early Spring sun
Blamed, but cultivating, still

Fruit Nut

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Sweet plum
Summer’s crown jewel
Ripened
Smiling, still

Though ghosted
Chipped away at
Hollowed out
Cut in two

Bitten off, but not spit out
For I remain
Saucy
Thus, your favorite fruit

Stricken With Purpose

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What of the bitter
Since I’ve known sweet
When I’ve caused distance
You’ve drawn me near
I cannot unknow
Understanding You’ve giv’n
If there be cracks in cement
We’ll place jewels there
For flowers
Not weeds shall grow here