Sunday, January 19, 2014

Imaginary flower

My fingers weave
through the pedals
I can only imagine
In this remote season of chill
The warmth of imaginary dew
Dripping from finger tip
To my lips and into my mouth
A taste so sweet
Honey can’t compete,
The feel so real
I burn inside
Melting the worst ice
This winter casts
These pedals never wilting
Always moist
Always fragrant
Filling me up

Until I burst

No comments:

Post a Comment