Sub Rosa Poem by Niko Tiliopoulos

I missed the Spring.
I fell asleep under the shadows of my desires,
with mandolin sounds for lullabies
and my grandfather’s pipe,
in dreams dressed in herbal smoke and honey scents
and the beauty of my loved ones.

I missed the Spring.
I was late for my soul,
too late for a song,
deceived by the lotus flowers
and the smiles of the sirens,
their seductive bodies waving my sanity away.

I missed the Spring.
The ring of oblivion was Time’s gift,
a nursery rhyme’s forgotten curse,
here like now, absent like never,
a colourless rainbow reflection
on eyes of sadness.

I missed the Spring.
I woke up in the slumbers of my regrets,
by tribal drumbeats for breakfast
and my grandmother’s tales,
in a reality stripped of hope and home warmth,
well worth the loneliness of a poem.

I missed the Spring.