Holding The Flowers
Strange ghosts stalk the city,
Haunting up from sewer grates.
Scarcely recognized memories
Traverse the park in autumn.
Winter nights in the dead of summer,
Single women sell their numbers,
“For a cosmopolitan, mister,
I’ll let you kiss my slumber.”
I hand her a magazine and leave the bar,
I’m pretty sure she just wants my car.
I drift on the wind down to the park
Where the trees reach down like giants
And the moon stares down like an eye.
The wind is chilly by the river,
And I’m reminded of a thousand first dates.
The taste of young love like honeysuckle,
Her hands like a kitten’s paws.
She vanishes back into my thoughts
And I’m left holding the flowers.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Holding The Flowers by Jesse Ellsbury )
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