The cards were unfolded
by petals...
My rose
Sings to my soul...
it exists outside the bonds that entrap them,
and wanders for a place outside eternity...
Yelling daffodils paraded
Eulogies, soft, serenaded...
Certain feelings
such as organic...
I can hear the rain
watch the branches move...
chips fly through the air
on a Winter's beach sea breeze...
There she is, my moon
lighting my darkness, like a missing piece...
Cicadas' thrumming
A golden net of sound...
Camping in the wild
I was but a child...
The sun is slowly sinking into the neighbors...
you never noticed before that but it's in moments...
She can change her mind
like the weather, which is true...