With innocence found within childhood lust
Resurfaced in moments of involuntary trust
Sweetly intoxicating memories bring her
Shredded blossoms in delicate fingers
Dripping sticky; ambrosia scent lingers
Drinking deep of love's lost flavors
On dripping stems, sweet syrup savored
Her floral fantasies never wavered
Sweet nectar pulled from fragile flowers
Soaking life in warm spring showers
Heaven's scent in earthly powers
1 comment:
It's a lovely poem, but as someone who has honeysuckle in their yard I tend to think of it as the demon vine that will not die. :)
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