lavender lilac butter scotch blue flowers
aside the nothingness but open air
rummiging thorns down thickles
to its decending upwarding water

breathing upon its havoc
limber joyous not so joyous atmosphere
Always doing the same but not yet the same,
dying

like soil is its blood without its blood its earth its roots
have gone dissipade unlike me,
I am made from soil unto my own soil thickness
and breathing joyfully into Space

what are flowers for when we can use them for so much
other than its immediance question and answer of this such
"I don't know"
Taste, devour, smell, and beauty

nothing but its limber award
and pleasantry

of this sickle
rootless
tree

blending in so perfectly,
with water and what's death to be.

Saddening strickening the evolution of quick throw away plant;
Necessary; like a gift it is,
a quickness of sight,
an immediance of a throw away

To the salut!

© Clarissa C. van Vreden