Blossoms of Love
Spring has sprung gold
The creek croaks a tune of a man’s toll
Trees strum chords of a maiden’s soul
Mountains chime and gardens bell a life untold
The doe eyes of beauty paw at rooted passions
It must be the velvet of her skin encased and ashen
Perhaps the silk on her breath a porcelain vase
The valley bows at a hawthorns grace
Crowned in an ivy’s vine
A queen deserves a rose of red wine
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