Flowers lightly scent the air,
Woven into your midnight tresses,
Painting the night in vivid
Reds, blues, purples, pinks,
Every hue blooms explicit.

A sun-drenched path leads,
Leads away, leaves windswept in
Complex patterns across it
Branches heavy with birdsong;
Ancient rites witnessed from treetops.

Soft seclusion in a meadow,
Far from the beaten path,
Beckons; Clouds scroll a blue sky,
Talking of nothing and of
Everything – I ache inside.

We have gone this way
Before – what of it?
Yearning blossoms in my chest
But I have naught but
Pressed flowers between

Pages with their perfume
Fading away. A stolen
Glance, plaiting your hair with
Trembling petals while blue
Skies turn to thunderstorms –

I try to wait patiently. The birds
Will forever throw their voices
To the sky, waiting for an answer –
As I will try,
And try, and try.

– Poetry By M

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