i like my women like i like my flowers,
down to earth and she was rooted to the notion.
she sprouted out from under the cracks of paper-white pavement
with tulips curled to the cosmos greeting morning glories
as graciously as angel horns. i was hung up on her like a hollyhock.
she was sweet, fragrant like a balm, mellow like a mallow but she
turned a new leaf and called out to me like coral bells.
i rose like a plume of smoke with whirling butterflies in my belly.
i looked into the iris of her baby blue eyes and asked,
“what’s up buttercup?”
she took a baby’s breath
and “forget-me-not”
stemmed from her bearded-tongue.
though knowing she spoke
out of honesty and passion,
i raised my candytuft cuff
and bade her a clarkia.
farewell to spring

© Matthew Harlovic