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Potpourri & Apples

Poetry By: inlalaland
Memoir



This idea came from my furniture polish. It smells like potpourri.


Submitted:Mar 10, 2013    Reads: 16    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


Potpourri & Apples

Is my she my home?

For she surrounds me like so.

Let the ashes burn and spiral

To rekindle that flame.

The memory is here,

But I fail to recollect her name.

She was dazzling wild.

Only a face tamed her spirit.

The fruit of the Earth,

And a nostalgia gripping my heart.

She was like Potpourri & Apples.

Very gently shall she sway.

And only to me can she be so intimate.

If I can ever catch hold of her very own gravity,

I will be part of her world.

But for now the notion is beyond me.

And I will be safe at home with what she has left:

Potpourri & Apples.

Will I ever cease to bleed and brood?

For her end comes sooner than mine.

And a red tint develops over the wrinkling lips,

Giving way to my lover's time.

Will eternity force me to watch from a distance

As her her exterior begins to gray?

And as I settle down in this bed, waiting for my turn,

I constantly ponder:

Is my she my home?

For she surrounds me like so.

Let the ashes burn and spiral

To rekindle that flame.

The memory is here,

But I fail to recollect her name.

She was dazzling wild.

Only a face tamed her spirit.

The fruit of the Earth,

And a nostalgia gripping my heart.

She was like Potpourri & Apples.





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