The naiads have splurged with roses.
Swirls of scented air hover above their clearings.
Without petals and stars they cannot dwell
beneath the glass shine…
Day dreamers see their unfading beauty
in the sands of the fountains.
Their love is
built on a foundation
of unicorn-green grass…
is composed of myrtle and oleander
and moss-covered lungs
heave along with waters driven
Their flesh is irrational atoms
that laugh the blood
and rhythm of life
in the veins
that sing the helplessness blues.
White hymnal doors
on Midsummer’s Eve
at the harvest of ripe and lofty words
and lady’s bedstraw
in the flicker of buried treasures.
Their words shield
the scent of a tuberose
the spoils of the evening.
They sing in the wind
“Leave this war with me!”
It is never too late
nor too soon
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I am seeing great work my Friend. 🙂very thoughtful.