Tag: Poem About Love and Loss

Poem: Watercolor Dreams

An old poem about waking up from a story that was too small.

He found her with her eyes closed

Tight

Lids wrapped around

Pulled down

And dreaming

Watercolor dreams


He lived a life of comfort

Cotton

Filled his form

Like an animal stuffed

Insulated from

The courage to explore


He held her at one end

Taut

Between fingers tightly wound

Stretching like elastic

Brittle with aging codependence

Afraid to loosen his grip


She was like a Rose

Strong

Yet gentle in her making—

Giving but not taking—

So he wore her pinned

To his jacket like a prize


He pulled one petal at a time

Slowly

Scattered her around himself

Like confetti at his feet

Glimmering in sunlight

After a parade


She watched through rose colored

Eyes

Wondering at his dance

As he tapped his feet

To the rhythm of his science

Letting his heart beat out of sync


She rested a while tired by the

Miles

Traveled in footsteps and

In smiles broadly sewn

To the walls of her soul

Like threads of a tapestry


He named his rationality

Reason—

Suddenly like a thief

Holding a bag of gold

Heavy with secrets untold and

With her time and observations


She cut the rope between her

Heart

And the anchor he threw

Watched it sink

Until she could see it

No more, now


There at the bottom of the

Ocean

And her sighs

Lay the anchor and

There on the water’s edge

Sail her heartbeat and

Her watercolor dreams.


© Jill Szoo Wilson, 2025

Poem: Ice

The moment before, he knew.
She knew it, too—but she didn’t know
What it meant.
He had spent all he had in love
And in time—
For time is all we have to spend—
Not knowing that one second would turn into
Years.

The moment before, he felt.
She felt it, too, but it was in her mind—
What it meant.
Dripping with memories, mundane,
Like coffee brewing slowly—
For love steeps one drop at a time—
Her daydreams were painted in
Love.

The moment before, he released.
She released, too, but she didn’t expect
What it meant.
Embracing and letting go, to embrace again,
Was like brushing her teeth—
For some rituals cleanse even as they return—
He knew her expectation and knew he would
Fail.

In the moment, he could smell her.
She could smell her, too—and she knew
What it meant.
He started a fire between his head
And his heart—
For the heart stokes the kindling the mind provides—
But the embers burned deeper than he
Expected.

In the moment, he could see the glow.
She could see it, too, and she knew
What it meant.
The lingering warmth of his hand on her back
Felt like ice—
For ice signals death—
The frigidity was new but not exactly
New.

In the moment, his conscience writhed.
She writhed a little, too, and she knew
What it meant.
His goodbye lingered near,
Like a rattling snake—
For snakes wait, and then they strike—
And she stiffened her heart, bracing for
The end.

The moment was gone. The seconds counted
And done.
The hem of her gown swished away;
His countenance melted
Like fire melts ice,
And ice turns to water,
And fire boils it all to steam.

The end was the beginning.
The beginning was now.
He sat on the ground.
He looked to the sky.
The moon turned out its lamp—
And he knew what it meant.

© Jill Szoo Wilson, 2025