Windflowers

Swirl our uncertain love in sweet ice-cream snowdrops…

Twirl my love, return unbidden wintry, I’m sprung, all summery…

She makes a week the making of another world. Seven days too many, and I’ve not got a penny more, but I do adore, I do, I do true…

How dare you compliment my kisses and depart? Fair woman of the free wind, hyper-seasonal work of highest art, under-dressed in day-glow… 

Jar our fleeting love in just honeycomb daffodils…

© Thomas James Foster 2015

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