Book

November 7, 2021November 7, 2021

Pressed Leaves In Time

Leaves pressed along and upon the road

rain soaked to become part of the landscape

pressed as though escaping from the pages

of a book long forgotten but still intrinsic

to a life lived, a day spent, a moment laden

in a time shared, a smile revealed still seen

in the mind’s eye with each passing year

to be held close in each raindrop that falls

leaves pressed not by human hand’s folly

but the unleashed presence of nature

pressed down by passing cars and in time

imprints of feet beneath a crunch of tires

pressed down but not between the pages

of sentimentality to be treasured in time

for with time these leaves will fade away

once part of life and will be once again

they are now integral to our landscape

sleeping a long awaited death in dying

a pause to give life a continuing cycle

time to breathe & wait for color again

while lone sentinel ferns see in silence

once a vibrant green they hold dying leaves

now a weathered color of red-orange rust

fronds curled in sadness under gray skies

knows their life is a reflection of leaves

pressed down in the road and the ground

it breathes a sigh unheard but for the wind

knowing in Spring life will come & find them

© November 2021 Renee Espriu

My Photo Transformed

April 25, 2013April 25, 2013

No Smooth Edges

Altered Google Image

vestiges of what can’t be seen
as you try to catch a glimpse
in the filtered sunlight
that catches particles of dust

of the fragments, pieces of
what you were like
not so long ago
like torn pages of a book

a bitter pill to swallow this
thing called change
this thing called
age

is always hard like diamonds
jagged edges before they are
polished smooth they scrape
your knees, making your
hands raw

for life has no smooth edges
and even glass shatters
when broken like
the remnants of a lifetime

will matter to no one but you
and as the sun drops
beneath the horizon
the glass darkens
as you try to catch a glimpse

http://dversepoets.com/category/openlinknight/

November 4, 2012November 4, 2012

Memory Fleeting

between pages
torn and weathered
i see you there upon the
rustic bookshelves
in my mind
calling out my name
as if

i’m meant to hear but
naught are echoes of your
voice unclear as i run
barefoot through
my childhood years
seeing

you smiling back at me
sharing our own
private joke
my memory fleeting
your image fades
to grey tones

My mother has been gone for nearly five years now but she is never far away from me. She would have been 85 yrs old on November 13th. Happy Birthday Mom!