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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