I missed the Spring. <br />I fell asleep under the shadows of my desires, <br />with mandolin sounds for lullabies <br />and my grandfather’s pipe, <br />in dreams dressed in herbal smoke and honey scents <br />and the beauty of my loved ones. <br /> <br />I missed the Spring. <br />I was late for my soul, <br />too late for a song, <br />deceived by the lotus flowers <br />and the smiles of the sirens, <br />their seductive bodies waving my sanity away. <br /> <br />I missed the Spring. <br />The ring of oblivion was Time’s gift, <br />a nursery rhyme’s forgotten curse, <br />here like now, absent like never, <br />a colourless rainbow reflection <br />on eyes of sadness. <br /> <br />I missed the Spring. <br />I woke up in the slumbers of my regrets, <br />by tribal drumbeats for breakfast <br />and my grandmother’s tales, <br />in a reality stripped of hope and home warmth, <br />well worth the loneliness of a poem. <br /> <br />I missed the Spring.<br /><br />Niko Tiliopoulos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sub-rosa-3/
