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Unseen, The Lilacs And The Daffodils


the world
in unspoken quiet lies
its breath seems stolen in its place
the distance is perceived
and still it grows
as we stand rooted in our space

the birds deftly calibrate the sky
they're out of reach and far away
clouds rain copiously upon
people trudging down below
they shuffle along
ghost-stepping through their days

the colors of the world are not gone
somehow they stubbornly presist
a growing  hush surrounds us, ecchoes and rebounds
as our lives mechanically attempt to move along
while free-floating time seems to sleep and drift

the colors of the flowers attempt to speak
the language of a renewing spring
but their words no longer understood,
the beauty  of them  almost fails to exist...

a bracing wind blows their petals away...
yet still their blooms bob and bow
moving together in colored waves in the growing breeze
their fragile beauty fails to thrill
the spingtime message of joy faltering
as if diseased

intrepid now is their up-rooted dance of
once fragrant lilacs and golden daffodils.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POE 8:37PM PST 3/26/2020
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED WRITER
MELISSA A. HOWELLS, AND ALSO FRO THIS LEGALLY
COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE: MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD





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