June dreaming

It’s June, and I’m dreaming of roses –
roses that murmur
in all shades of pink,
from the whispers of kisses
to the bright brazen hussies
that hang over the path.

There are roses here
for all of your dreams:

the striped ones,
that trumpet
a thousand big tops,
tatty but tempting,

or that pure white wildling
escaped from the hedgerow
that carries me homeward,

or, buxom and wholesome,
the rambler that climbs,
and blushes and nods
as you enter the gate

or the red one that carries
the rich smell of wine,
and the softness of lipstick,
the warmth of a dress,
the gloss of a nail. .

I could drown here, you know,
I could drown in this garden, that’s
heavy with petals heavy with rain.

It’s June.
and I’m drowning in roses.

Dreaming for the solstice with earthweal.

The dream – poem for dVerse

The dream slipped through
my fingers
like wet glass

– sunlight striping the pillow –

leaving me just the feeling
that something strange
and true had happened –

and you were there

there was a bus
or, no, a fish

and a deep colour blue
and a strange, twisted tree
that might have been a cloud,
and birds, or candy canes,
and you

it meant so much

the feeling haunted me
all day
I couldn’t shake it
but I couldn’t name it

Lillian is hosting at dVerse tonight, and we are dreaming dreams.