more than just poetry

Hyacinth garden

it is a mystery that I still cradle every musing.

let me tell you her smile started at her toes and worked its way to the top of her head.

I see visions of her ease and her lips, that I still hear her laughter through my memories.

was it make-believe?

the last moments, were hers as the moon took me for a ride.

while she stepped outside for an up close view of Aldebaran’s glint, to use my recipe for fantasy.

now the sun cloaks the moon.

her beauty still shines two million light years away.

and my memories turned to verse.

like the past she is gone.

she took from me something personal.

something solely from my heart.

no she is still beautiful and so sublimely free.

She is all of this, she is more than just poetry.

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