There're much
  More
Less
   Interesting
Things
   Occurring
In here
  Than
    The tumult
Outside
    These
Windows,
   But
  It's ok:
I've learned
    How
To make
    Tears
   Crystalline
  And how
     To bleed
    With the setting sun
   So stealthy
    Nobody
     Notices.

The sprouting buttercup
dangles into the purpled,
doting sky. It's waxy spangles
nuzzle the moist,
crisply dewed, fluff
whilst billowing across merry air. 

The yellow buttercup
dozes in spiced, lean dapples,
setting its soul ablaze in sumptuous echoes at the sheer
drape of dawn.

The teacup buttercup
outspreads it's wings
amongst tall spiked grasses
and wild flowers.
Shifting shafts and shards
of grass and glass
and forever awaiting the larks cry
which means its time to die.

All winter's
spread scattered now,
leaves
dying damp on earth;

Banging at my chest when
you ask 'why?'',

tears stall time;

Pasts ebb
in the sky, lark-sliced;

Awaiting bloom,
all of life's spread bare.