Breathing deeply
her shoulders heaving
my mind drifts back to fritillaries-
road-side romping
chasing painted ladies
and the victorious possession of beauty.
These days, embittered
by the fleeting nature of collections-
how they tarnish and dull with time-
the urge arises
to arrest her for poetry
and for conspiring to steal my crime.
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2 comments:
You plant little gems like seeds
to grow
after the snow
Thanks Saltzy! Nice to see you in these Snowy Cedars.
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