I taste the colours of
dawn and the fresh greens
clear my senses. Fluttered anticipations
subside and fall away.
The warmer it becomes, the colder I am.
Nothing can stop this
chamomile scented attack
on what was this winter
The fallen leaves are replacing themselves
Flourishing life stops short my chest.
From www.notwithoutpoetry.wordpress.com:
The prompt? Spring. The general exuberance and complexity of life. Any or all of the erotic associations blooms have (the fleur-de-lis is supposed to be not just an iris but stylized male genitals). Or none of the above.
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