Raspings of the street’s lament.
Secretive,
commonplace,
hauntings.

Veiling the paths of floral regimes;
Assaulting itself upon a concrete temple.

Brief wisps of permanence
Floating past perception.
Coming to rest on ****** blossoms collected.

At the bottom of meadow-less time.

Naturalist bindings no longer
Only within hollow ties of
the wide- eyed, weaponized child.

Tearless wails for mystical voices.

Refracting
Piourettes of venus,
Dancing, upon a water- colour creator.

Gazing at home from the top of a sunbeam,
Failing to find mercy in a melting world.