Rosemary

Do you see the purple night?
And the stars,
glittering with cool, distant brilliance?

They’re all for you,
bending low to kiss
your hands.

Daily, I watch you grow,
your beauty lying
wildly in my quarters.

Clothed in deathless green,
you embalm this moment
with your scent.

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21 thoughts on “Rosemary

        1. Thanks. My poem mostly come from inspiration. Whenever they do, I’ll need a pen and paper to write them quickly. Or else, everything will be lost. Very few stick in my head until I get behind my monitor. On the overall, I will keep posting. I’m so grateful for your comments.

  1. There is a certain elegiac quality to your poem. It seems to mourn a particular memory or moment. And if Rosemary were a woman rather than an herb, the feeling would be even stronger (nothing in the poem bars the possibility of this double meaning, and I think it makes the poem all the stronger). Certain scents have a way of triggering memory, and memory is, at least to me, always an elegy of some sort or another, for we continually mourn the past.

    1. Glad you picked up the fact the poem can be viewed from two perspectives, Prospero. Such moment in time speaks to the heart more than any other, I guess πŸ˜€

  2. This is a beautiful description of a romance under the night sky. I smell Rosemary… is she a person or scent, or meant to be both? You write with beauty and words that can be sensed with one, or all, five senses.

  3. At first I had wanted to write about a woman named Rosemary (fictitious). Then a couple in one romantic night. But…I found myself writing about a herb. As of the time (where I was living) my landlady had adorned the compound with nice flowers including Rosemary. Thanks for the comment. I’m grateful.

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