lillies on your nightstand

When you told me you weren't sure

how we had fallen to this place,

I had just glanced over to your nightstand,

which stood beside the bed, once ours,

and noticed the leaves of my lily lifting

from their prolonged moody position

across the bottom of their terracotta pot.

Too many nights ignored and taken for granted

had left them sunken and in distress;

yet, it had only taken this one night of care

to begin reaching back towards prior glory.


A soft scent of spring drifted in the window

which had not been opened in so long

despite a love for wild breeze rocking me to sleep,

and, throughout the night, singing lullabies softly.

I reached my finger tips and toes slowly

to the utmost extremes of my cotton sheets,

as if each appendage were an eager explorer

taking back lost land in new conquest.

I smiled, because I knew how we had gotten here.

Eyes, suddenly heavy, closed without intent of explanation,

and I felt nothing but thankful.

PoetryEmily Pickerd