I carry a paper bag of flowers, the petals are blue, yellow, and orange,
Early flowers, the bag is a sandwich bag, it’s dawn,
I put the flowers in a basket and bike home, the sky is blue, orange, and yellow,
My wild face, in momentum, how is the dawn somehow starry after all the stars are put away?
How is it, just for a second, this wild face among the stars, on a bike, with flowers
For the dining room table, to be with books, and pencils, and to have breakfast with,
Encourage me to open the windows, they are the better part of me, for a few days,
In which time, I’ll write what seems to be stream of consciousness poems, better yet,
I’ll put on my canvas shoes and walk till my stomach growls
For the fire and fever of tasteless stars.
This is wonderful! So, so, so good!
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Thank you, Used Life, that means a lot.
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Soooo beautiful!
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Thank you so much!
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Most welcome ❣️
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Oh this is exceptional! My eyes like to touch your pearl strands, wisely chosen words.
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Thanks, that’s very kind of you. I very much appreciate the comment.
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You’re welcome, Naïv. Hope life and inspiration continue treating you fabulously.
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You too, jei. Stay safe. And I’m looking forward to your next post.
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