Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FLORIDA MEMORIES, by FRANKLIN N. WOOD


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FLORIDA MEMORIES, by                    
First Line: The old rose color of crepe myrtle trees
Last Line: That salt taste on my lips -- must be a tear.
Subject(s): Tears


The old rose color of crepe myrtle trees
Waving against a time-stained plaster wall,
The sweetness of a mocking bird's low call,
Faint orange blossom scents, a lazy breeze,
Are woven into haunting memories,
Recalling magic isles and glamorous ports
Where crumbling mission walls and ancient forts
Drowse in the sparkling glare of tropic seas.
A flock of sea gulls, arguing with the sun,
Slide down the wind into a snowy spray,
Low clouds, like rolls of carded wool, drift near;
But soon, the sea gulls vanish one by one,
My dream ends with a northern wintry day --
That salt taste on my lips -- must be a tear.





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