Spring

 




A memory suppressed, forgotten.

 Your scent lingers and yet, it's unfamiliar. A stranger among the pious and broken.

 

Promised tomorrows not-soon revealed, 'forever' forever impossible.

Your eyes, windows to the soul least remembered. But when gone, least-of-all forgotten. Strange that one should hold so dear the things once so easily not seen.

 Flittering, translucent, fragile.

 
Each petal unique. Each sepal unequaled in time.

Here only for today. 

Drawn open and shut by the sun.