Tulips

Send my heart, adrift to the tulips,
they my long-time friend.
O you are the first shade of spring,
Set my heart on fire, orange and pink,
Imprint all your ideas on mine,
Burn, let them burn, with that fervor unspoken.

Saturday wept, her heart,
a plea to the riverside’s embrace,
that eternal green,
that breath of nature.
She wept, lungs filled with the day.

Yet beside me, you stand,
unseen but felt, memories of us,
how the ice once melted.
We swayed, like willow,
like leaves in the breeze,
exiling our past to history’s seas.
In the pages, our story, gently unfolds.

Cry, if your heart so desires,
my dearest friend, the tulips.
Drink the water, sip the solitude,
in the very corner I buried my blues,
you listened, quietly,
when I whispered the secrets between you and me.

Take my heart to the riverside,
that evergreen, that shade of spring –

It was the spring,
just like any other spring:
Dew-kissed mornings,
sun-rays threading through
sorrow, passers-by, hand-in-hand,
weaving stories untold,
pomegranate whispers,
the taste of my tears,
mingling in the dance of now and then.