Saturday, March 28, 2015

Fraught

Winter stifles spring, captive in her clutches

A bud of fear weeps unrequited an unencumbered dream
 
If only our desire were enough to wake her up

It’s she who must unfurl herself, we mourn a sweet requiem


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1 comment:

  1. AnonymousApril 3, 2015 at 10:26 PM

    Isn't she lovely, Isn't she wonderful,so very made of love ...

    ReplyDelete

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