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LAURA LYNCH Jun 2012
Like the breath of a lover, I feel the warm breeze.
The breeze carries the fragrance of Springtime’s tease.
Senses aroused by flirtatious blossoms;
Myriads of colors flooding my gardens.

Blackthorns, Azaleas, Crocus and Dahlias
Clothed in beauty, tossing seductive glances.
Springtime’s powerful elixirs and tonics
Intoxicating lovers with her elaborate sonnets.

Sung through the trees, the Robin’s melodies.
The time of the year for the birds and the bees.
Cardinals and Larks sing breaking the spell,
As the captives of winter are released from their cells.
Cat Fiske Sep 2015
I walked the streets,
wishing to hear from you today,
but I see the sad memories as the Adonis open up to cry and pray,
and I remember that I'm just going to slowly fade away,

I was to see a man holding Aster's,
who looked a whole lot like you,
I remembered how you said you loved me,
and then I saw the man pull out flowers as blue as your eyes,

a blue like Anemone for a women,
just as her and my face could show the fading hope,
how she remembered getting Apple Blossom's as a promise from you,
like you had promised to much to keep to me too,

you feel the Bittersweet in the Truth and patients and love you gave,
and you feel Blackthorns stab at you as if it isn't difficult enough,
to forget the pain,
and let the memories fade,

your on your way home,
and you see the bellworths all closed up as if hopelessness is dead,
and the Bittersweet Truth,
is trying to tell you look for the Bellflowers as if he sent you them,

but your heart will learn,
as you race home,
your heart will drop,
when you don't see hee wants to talk to you,

but when you see Butterfly Weeds on your doorstep,
as if he was trying to tell you,
Let Me Go,
when you wanted him to fly back,
Sad flowers to tell a tale about losing someone your good friends with, or just someone you love who doesn't wish to love you anymore.
Blooming in the garden
So many life forms
So many flowers
My favorite of all blackthorns
Slow pacing in the garden
Windiest of the days and seasons
My favorite scene
My hands brushing against the plants I can't name
I listen to nature sing to me different songs
Crickets of the night
They came so early to sing me
A fine lady's lady bug resting on my shoulder
How thoughtful
Such beauty leaves me speechless
I get tongue tide

— The End —