Sunday, April 7, 2013



how fair your blooms
their unjust beauty
too swift to leave me
gone with the fragrance 
of you

a melancholic dance
purple petals in the wind
harbinger of longer days
to be endured

how cruel must you be
deep-rooted in your task
of strangling vines
insidiously taking hold
of me

Gods' own beautiful creation
not of Heaven, but of earth
in all its' fleeting irony
of the heartache reserved for
the few

for you will come
and you will go
upon the memory of you I smile
until you return again
to me