When The Last Flower Dies [Poetry]

This is a poem by John Tustin.

That moment

In winter 

When the last flower dies;

Dying in that space between the soil and the pavement.

And just as the snow is about to fall on that place,

The air cold and relentless,

The ground fisted and hard:

It is then that you should meet me:

That exact moment the ground is most resistant

And the snow is swirling all about.

It is then that we should meet beneath the moon

That does not care for or about us.

It is there that you should kiss me and it is there

That you should look into my eyes

And it is there

That a new flower will bloom.

Or will not.

Smile with me 

And hold me close

With the moon a grizzled sneer

And the snow caked in your hair

And don’t stop kissing me

Or looking into my eyes

And I think it will bloom.


Think it, too.

John Tustin began writing poetry again a decade ago and his poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals, online and in print. Fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.

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