Afterwards the dreams have changed

Afterwards –
when only thorns remain
when leaves have left
and sap
been sucked.

With fingers pricked,
you still recall, perfumed
the summer rose of youth.

Before the withered rot
and sag of flesh,
before you burst in bloom,
your dreams
were different from now.

Young woman with a bouquet of roses by François Boucher

Young woman with a bouquet of roses by François Boucher

Today it’s time for the Quadrille at dVerse hosted by me, a poem of 44 words that has to include the word rose.
—-
June 27. 2016

37 responses to “Afterwards the dreams have changed

  1. excellent quadrille here — although, as your elder, don’t like to think of my sagging flesh and sucked out sap 😦 I prefer rejuvenatement dreams — different from those of my youth for sure — but sill as tantalizing 🙂
    Wishing you a grand vacation, sir! 🙂 In case I forget to mention at Poetics.

  2. The dreams may have changed but hopefully the passion for life still lingers. I specially admire this part;

    perfumed
    the summer rose of youth.

  3. I so like this – the perfumed rose of youth vs. the thorns of today. I turn 65 in a few months and this just knocks my poor little head back.

  4. Your love and facility with meter comes through in this breath-taking quadrille, Bjorn. The image is so well chosen–or maybe it came first. I often try to see the elderly as they might have been in their youth.

  5. I refuse to be a thorny, sap-sucked, dried… well, I never was a rose anyway. But that aging thing!

    A lovely poem. It sang as I read it, Bjorn.

  6. I was never as fair as the lady here in the photo 🙂 , but I understand the sentiments perfectly. I see myself in the words. 🙂

  7. Pingback: If | Doodles and Scribbles·

  8. This is a lovely piece that transcends through time. It somewhat reminds me of my favorite sonnet, Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116. Nicely done, Bjorn! 🙂

  9. Some people can’t get over the disappointment of youthful fantasies and face the reality of the world. They let the sap get sucked out of them and they wither and die. The challenge is to let the flowers of fantasy die and then rebloom in a more mature way that is more aligned with life. Beautiful poem!

  10. when only thorns remain
    when leaves have left
    and sap
    been sucked…
    I’d like to think the perfume lingers! Your final stanza has reminded me that it’s my birthday soon :(.

  11. A rose is a rose…whether in full bloom youth, or dried into a sweet smelling potpourri, your dreams may be different, but they help keep us alive and kicking! Sweet poem, Bjorn!

  12. As one whose sap has been repeatedly and effectively sucked at this point, I’m happy to note that the dreams of my own youth do linger on and are occasionally rekindled by memory and new experience. But yes, there is a difference. Youth is sweeter, somehow, viewed from the distance of years gone by. I do miss the innocence. And age equals context equals deeper anchors in reality..for me, at least.

    I like this poem, pricked fingers and all.

    =)

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