POETRY: Flowers Of The Days And Hours, by Justine Ward

July 1, 2015

Flowers of sorrow, grief and pain, of ecstacy and bliss, memory’s phantoms rise again in metamorphosis as buried bulb or hidden grain by magic artifice transformed, become articulate as murmured canzonet that time cannot obliterate, for every floweret converted, serves to consecrate the days’ and hours’ debt. In memory’s garden I meet flowers of the days and hours; fragrant are all though bitter-sweet, those half-forgotten flowers; forget-me-not and marguerite smile from the perfumed bowers, some redolent of childhood days or adult joy and pain transmuted into songs of praise that lift to higher plane the years and hours in paraphrase their failure turned to gain.   [...]