eulusivepurplepanda

    There are two girls in the living room. 
    One sits over the mantle framed by her family with the sun in bloom. 

In the vast of nature, man only walks. 
Man feeds on her branches, he only sees
Her fragrant buds, not her root’s grounding rocks. 

Suburbs claim land, skyscrapers hold market stock, 

I’m back where I started at the beginning of summer. 

    On a ledge, over a creek

    Wondering how long the drop. 

    Staring out into a wooded glen. 

What comes after Winter’s fearful whip? 
Tell, what gives sway to summer scented sage? 
To what gives imagination’s muses blush? 
The forest’s bloom green, the bee’s nectar rush? 

Besides each writer answering the question “What is it that makes a human life worth living?”  I also wanted each writer’s answer to represent a facet of Romanticism in some way while still being true to their character, which proved to be one o

“My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm-the canker and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some Volcanic Isle; No torch is kindled in it’s blaze, a funeral pile.”