- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Jasmine
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Too short a lease of time: the white cascade
of bunched, sweet flowers faded slowly; then
there was a downpour and the ruthless rain
stuck all those petals on the asphalt, white
no more but dirty with dismay. The night,
too, lost for it. Where I would stand and stare
in silence how the dark enhanced this sight
and wonder how the scent grew strong likewise
there’s nothing left now but untidy boughs
and a strong smell of earth gone soaking wet.
Those magic flowers, mouldy, rot away –
to one white hour there’s many months of grey.
- COMMENTS
Tsothaalmost 10 years agoIndeed, to one white hour, many months of grey. I've always loved the scent of Jasmine, but how quickly it blooms and withers... Interesting sounds and enjambment throughout the first two stanze (e.g., asphalt, white).
