Words and phrases
runs counter as daffodils
defiantly shy from beauty
listening to the vetch's forlorn,
sometimes we face long standing fears,
in time we question
if we really belonged to this ungainly,
the word of fable instinctively  protests,
unfolding its quilt
pledging Crocheted yarns of winding roads,
we then assuredly dream of
open spaces.