Eyes lowered, separate from the crowd if you ignore her frowns,
Could this wallflower throw down the gauntlet of one party reveller- Time himself dozing before the stroke of midnight?
Or, Would this wallflower anticipate the daffodils, daisies and roses to save the day with clear cut stems of prosecco?
The garden of gaiety pours out bubbly conversations
Impervious to check if the seconds move forward.
Ignorant to an eternity doomed to this New years eve of 2019
Bursts of lavender- waft obscure goals
a hint to a future -proposing a nouveau depart without delay.
Red-faced by an anxious creeping Rosacea attack
Wallflower cuts the vines tethering her from the wall tower.
Unveiled from the comfort familiarity penumbra.
Walking she becomes an unwanted eavesdropper attunes not just the laughter but the punch lines too.
music notes intermingle. A few casualties drowned out of feeble conversations
Whilst whistling a lament to the blues
Eyes peer up – sordidly scans this once garden turned wild.
Junglist Wallflower wilt not
Nor wither a delay when mere seconds away from unwaning entrapment
Threatened confinement to this moment
Never to feel the breath of another day.
never to leave this place & go home.
Mustering grande efforts hands push further into the jungle depths
Navigating a path. Not once does she recoil?
Less apologetic her persistence carves out a clearing to reveal stroke victim -Sir time.
An interruption with grace
You’ve fallen asleep at an extremely important time.
Dressed up in Thyme Time awakes shuffles one then two steps forward,
the jungle momentarily quietens
then corks released from restriction pop in Ecstacy
In the air are hanged notes of Celebratory songs
A new year to make life count.
Time over -foliaged stumble forward until he finds a chalice of wine.
turns his head -Gratefully raises his glass directly to the shadow.
The wallflower is not there, here
The wallflower is nowhere to be found.
A brief moment mingler she salvaged this space
Left the festivities subdued without a sound
*Inspired by writers’ block, acrostic poetry turned free form. No masterpiece but I’ve finally written something down.*
Posted on Jan 5, 2020, in POETRY and tagged Emotions, Life, parenthood, poems, POETRY, Stream of consciousness, Thoughts. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.
Great post 🙂
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Thank you so much. I’ve been stuck with writers block for a few weeks. Thanks so much for reading it.