It’s strange.
Lilies still in the wind.
An extraordinary wind at that.
Wind with a purpose so impertinent
It became love.
If you didn’t know any better,
You might name it something sweeter:
Abhorrence.
Your eyes sharp
And soft with desperation
Look at me for answers.
I’ve never seen anything quite like it
I marvel and speculate alongside you
We fall into a steady and cyclical dissonance
Are the lilies still anymore?
Yes, the sky is still blue. The grass,
Green.
It’s rather lovely.
I feel a tug. A pull.
With ease I lean into its plea
Spilling into silence,
I am gone.
You are here alone.
Delicately gilded, you are safe.
The lilies still in the wind.
Utterly strange.
Feb 4, 2025
Feb 4, 2025 at 6:02 PM UTC
It’s strange.
Lilies still in the wind.
An extraordinary wind at that.
Wind with a purpose so impertinent
It became love.
If you didn’t know any better,
You might name it something sweeter:
Abhorrence.
Your eyes sharp
And soft with desperation
Look at me for answers.
I’ve never seen anything quite like it
I marvel and speculate alongside you
We fall into a steady and cyclical dissonance
Are the lilies still anymore?
Yes, the sky is still blue. The grass,
Green.
It’s rather lovely.
I feel a tug. A pull.
With ease I lean into its plea
Spilling into silence,
I am gone.
You are here alone.
Delicately gilded, you are safe.
The lilies still in the wind.
Utterly strange.
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