The Cruellest Month

Pinkest of Flowers

I will drop daisies, watch them descending in showers.
I will give you my hidden and pinkest of flowers.

I will dance sky-clad in blue-strewn satin bowers.
I will lie in the petals that bled from the cleanest of flowers.

I will sleep on the soil while the green grows upwards for hours.
I will purr in the poppy field breathing the slumber of flowers.

I will drape over bridges my garlands and with them climb towers.
I will flirt with the sun to which turn the fey faces of flowers.

I will breathe in the fragrance of blooms and so swallow their powers.
I will open for you my hidden and pinkest of flowers.



April 26—April showers, May flowers (but no actual clichés) (maybe a ghazal!)