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meadows blooming like citrine
stems doing their cheery dance
zephyr messing up your chestnut hair
as I consciously try to savor the art
an unsettling awareness of my heartbeat,
as you stop midway and pluck the flower
"here, this one's for you"
hands brushing; causing our skin to spark
the sunflower, radiant as ever;
keeps looking at the sun from afar
making me pause and question,
like Apollo will you too break my Clytie's heart?
YOU ARE READING
Throes of Spring ✔️
Poetry[FEATURED] godhood is just like girlhood: a begging to be believed
