It's just poetry, it won't bite

Memories of Pearls

07.17.12 Posted in today's words by

Sara Fryd’s most recent poem to appear here was Tell Them (July 2010).

Memories of Pearls
By Sara Fryd

There are seasons I wear scarlet
with silver dangling from my ears
that make sounds so faint
they reminisce,
like whispers from the leaves
of my childhood autumn, and
tastes of cherry Manischewitz
at Passover.

Then the silvery winter baubles
laying long on my neck
with periwinkle violet drops
soft against my skin
encompassed by imagined
smells of lavender bought in Provenance
the January we loved under stars
only visible to us home in March.

May brought spring’s yellow orange beads
of childhood marbles tossed
across cement sidewalks
the sounds of soft church bells and
playground laughter of little girls
with boxes of 64 Crayolas made
just for us creating heavenly rainbows
on large school newsprint torn
from the teacher’s easel in the 
corner of the classroom.

Summer monsoons rush,
washing clean horizons of gray
with shades of Kingman turquoise finds,
of blueberry Colorado rivers,
blue-green saguaros surviving terrain
humans never could
Now we know only love
acquires pieces of the universe
then gently surrounds us with its beauty
asking for nothing in return.

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