The Last of the Lilies

©October 27, 2009

The Last of the Lilies

by

Kathy Larson

They’re the last remnants of summer.
Scattered daintily among the detritus.

Beautifully dissonant, fading like sunsets,
They still my hands, my heart.

See us, they whisper.  Remember
Soft rain and drowsy bees.

Exotic perfume drifts silkily
On languid evening air.  A siren call.

Heavy-limbed, blood like honey,
I sway, recalling velvet lips, sweat-slick bodies.

The crunch of tires on gravel breaks my reverie;
A smile like the curve of a petal as I look up.

I will not pick these; the last of the lilies.

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1 Comment

  1. Heather said,

    November 8, 2009 at 7:29 pm

    Absolutely stunning my friend.


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