etched through layers of rose
leaf on leaf briefly stenciled
the child in bright lemon
wandering
the prismed flowers
and is the ground you walk on
pure violet, violets scattered
the first springs the breath
like lace and you're trying to
speak in clouds engraved on clouds
they will drift away
amid cowslips, wild roses you May sit down
and cry after them.
ah! your first lament
the first of their many colours
bind them you will
like valentines
mary angela douglas 6 february 2015
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