Dance to the music playing in your soul
Exult in the moment
fading quickly
Gather the memories like roses from a lover’s hands
Harboring each flower and each thorn
in the intimacy of solitude.
~~~~~~
Dance to the music playing in your soul
Exult in the moment
fading quickly
Gather the memories like roses from a lover’s hands
Harboring each flower and each thorn
in the intimacy of solitude.
~~~~~~
MY WALL 
Beautiful!! 💖💖
Thanks, Trini. 🙂
Really like this poem, Imelda. It reminds me of how each moment can be so short and fleeting, and it always is wise to live in the moment. Solitude is such a wonderful thing to experience, ams for me that is when I go home at the end of each day and be comfortable and be myself. Hope you’re enjoying Autumn 🍂🍃🍁😊❤
HI, Mabel. 🙂 Thanks for always taking time to be here. Solitude is a gift, a respite from the madding crowd.
Yeah, autumn is great, even if a tad too rainy which, on second thought, is a wonderful thing.
I wish my brain worked well enough. Memories, like roses, wilt, until I’m left with their essence. I don’t remember what happened but simply that it was a good, or not so good, memory.
That is mostly true. After many years, memories become like a painting in broad brush strokes. They remember the image but not the details.
When I first read your comment, Amaya, I thought I read a poem, especially the second part.
Nice line: “Gather the memories like roses from a lover’s hands”
I think without the solitude we will never value the memories…
Serenity…thanks for transporting us there.
Thank you for the kind words. 🙂
My pleasure
Beautifully penned, Imelda.
Thanks, Sandy. 🙂
You are welcome.
This is beautiful, Imelda
Thanks, Leya. 🙂
Beautiful last line: in the intimacy of solitude.
I find this a beauty. Nicely done.
Pat
Thanks. 🙂
Thanks, Pat. 🙂
Poets have a tendency to celebrate solitude, because it is required not only in writing and sometimes reading a poem, but certainly in the internalizing of it. Really like:
Gather the memories like roses from a lover’s hands
Harboring each flower and each thorn
I like how you don’t have us forget the thorns, for pain is part of the beauty of who one is. Well done
Thanks, Lona. 🙂
I think the thorns make us more mindful about how we pick the roses. In that sense, thorns are valuable, too.
The poets need solitude to produce a well-penned masterpieces. I really loved the words and love the souls of your poems. Looking forward for more. God bless, Maam Imelda.
– your fan 🙂
Thank you much. I hope you had a wonderful Christmas. I am sorry for my very late reply.