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Honeysuckle
The drifting aroma
of firework life
is as delicate
and beautiful as
the one who
captured my heart
with a beguiling
smile and demure
wink of jade
eyes so trusting.
We recline in
a verdant meadow
namong the explosions
of color and
mystery as if
this spinning rock
is claimed by
us and us
alone; for when
winter draws near
the picture we
painted of intertwined
fingers and the
petals of grace
will remind us
that love will
return with force
born anew by
the song of spring
lilting and calling
like the memory
of the blazing
hearth where we
first met and
penned careless letters
about how my
flower before me
is brighter and bolder
than all of the
prarie soon to
be rendered to dust.
