It must be imagination
that permits my heart`s lament.
Like roses in a garden
my bed bespeaks your scent.

My mind, confused, bewildered,
it tries to circumvent
the path that leads to anguish
and memories truly spent.



Cynthia said...

Oh, Vince. I love this -- the formality of the language is offset so beautifully by the strength and earthiness of the image of the bed holding a lover's fragrance. Bold and sad. Well done.

TJ said...


unedited-life said...

Hey I luv the way you used words, this was nice.

Bravo... well done!

Yoga Gal said...

I'm a reader-not a writer- my blog is inspired by Samuel Pepys diaries, I want to be a window to my world, still I read your blog and LOVE your poetry! It's beautiful! Keep writing! Namaste!

Barb said...

Still loving the way you write, Vince. One cannot read this without appreciating your talent. When I am up to it I'd like to post something here, if I may. How do I go about that when I'm ready?