the attic in this heart keeps you
locked away where dust and cobwebs
camouflage this giddiness and
delight at the sight of first
spring upon your brow… then i am
certain flowers aren’t far from gardens
where you shall pluck and wrap them up
in your sturdy hands, so copious they are
in their giving, that you readily uproot
my past and fill my memory with roses

© mr gahon 4/30/15


About mr gahon

poet... writer... culinarian... i like to work with food that appeals to the senses, write words that taste even better View all posts by mr gahon

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