In auburn the sun fell.
In crimson she rose again.
As a gift of entrancing love.
My flowers overt, with inverted bells.
An infusion of Lila , green and white.
The spring sprung forth from earth so deep.
Leaving winter doth but weep.
A scene from seasons.
Of row boats and true love.
Of coffee with cream.
Photographs on front covers of many magazines.
Periodicals they speak.
Peace descends amidst those flowers.
Many more hours.
Sun hats and short sleeves.
Mystically weaving.
Gossamer strings,
Such pretty things.
(c)LIVVI