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Only I do drift, touch, dissolve
in the lap of my moments;
I carry love to be eternal
in the abyss of lonely nights in the end.
Being spring thinking it most apropos
for welcoming in our
so sought after warming friend
that influences both attitude and behavior as well
Meanwhile bursting pinkish and white blossoms of cherry and dogwood and the resurrection of tulips, of crocus
of bright yellow daffodils, in accordance, of perfumed scented purple hyacinth
All fall in spring patterns as hues of color and natural perfumed air flourishes everywhere
The air is filled with connecting one being to another
Each being is enthralled with the heated day
Birds chirp on nature's timetable
in genetic rhythm
Warmth fills our nostrils mixed with mother nature in blossoming  fragrance
This new warming day envelopes your body
like a true lover
Your stiffened shoulders and body relax with each easy step taken
Spring skies vanquish the dismal and grey days
revealing a blue and sunny canopy with white billowing clouds
extending into a blue dazzling horizon
Still and at ease are your and my thoughts
as remorseful thinking is now of cheer
And the relaxed warmth and happy chatter
of outside awakened people break the harsh-cold-winter silence

Have you felt your mind and body relax and smile after listening
my dear friends?


A revision from 2014m
FOR YOU WHO LIVE IN WARMER CLIMATES I AM
TRYING TO DELINEATED WHAT WE GO THROUGH IN THE NORTHEAST OF THE U.S., IF SPRING EVER GETS HERE,
FROM COLD TO WARMER WEATHER.
And i say, "ahhhhhhhhhhh almost time for shorts;
sandles and a light t-shirt."
a storm i managed to pass,
then saw you standing,
holding out a hand,

i took it within mine,
and we faced everything,
together we surpassed,

we almost reached the end,
but suddenly you let go,
now I'm all alone again.
 May 2016 Makenzie Scott
r
Night,
I love you
like a bride
loving her body,
the madman
the desert,
like the horse
loves its shadow,
the sad the lighthearted,
I love you like
a wanderer his ballad,
a poet his dark room,
like the moon.
 May 2016 Makenzie Scott
r
There was a girl
quite beautiful
who drowned herself
drinking they say
without blinking
like an infant suffocating
while sleeping without care
out where a lifebuoy
floats like a soggy rose
marking the spot
they last heard her
singing while sinking.
 May 2016 Makenzie Scott
r
Blue as the geography
of footprints across the dunes
quiet as the white music
of a silent moon
like the wind blowing
the soul off the water
the shadows go out
and are lost in the evening
I conclude the hypothesis
of sundown making no sound
while night climbs the vines
where lowing sadness abides
the ritual of tides pulls me under.
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