jardin

All I can feel is this whirlwind
burning inside
Soft sparks aflame
drift on the currents
melting like coals into flesh
The storm cloud grows
inside my skull
bursting with the wettest rain
No fear of death
that it will rain on my parade
I gathered love like flower seeds
precious, small buds
found along the way
delicate petals resting
wrapped in godly green
held cupped in gentle hands
never to be sown in barren soil
Never to mistake the rose for its thorns
all mine, tender, honest, young
Time pays its dues
Joy seeks the finders of small things

jardin

Sorcha Whitehorse ©

Joined October 2008

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  • Sorcha Whitehorse ©
  • JaneRoberts
  • Sorcha Whitehorse ©
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