as the May
sun sets over our
reign.
We breathe and savor
the flowers of the lily, wishing
they rise again, after the
late solstice of gloom comes and goes:
Sweet Lily, we shall meet again.
after the floods and the thaw, I shall be reborn.
but for now, my season has passed,
and the arid droughts of summer
must test the roots I have grown
in so short and beautiful a time
Are we ever reborn? Is this the only spring for me? Or will I get to savor the ever glowing feel of youth again? It has to be. I will miss this world and its lilies too much, to visit only once