Spring starts, and when the lavender works its magic, the first of the lavenders bud.
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Visual Art Contest.
Spring starts, and when the lavender works its magic, the first of the lavenders bud.
Posted in response to the challenge Spring: Visual Art Contest.
9 PM,
a minty smell wavering over my just-brushed teeth,
fragile bubbles of soap curling on my fingertips and the sink,
10 PM,
curling up on the bed with a worn book,
swift locks of golden hair belonging to—
a girl once invisible that now has a place in this world,
guitar stained with teardrops,
that is worn out by playing her song.
golden fireworks blazing from the sky—
the lifting of a tender brush
dipping it in a swirl of gold
painting the lush scene
with fine flecks of rose gold;
the love of a tender soul
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