Fading Moon

Flowers smell sweeter
when you are closer to earth
resting upon thoughts

like butterflies,
afraid to change seasons.

We get accustomed to rain
when daydreams are flooded
by jolts of reality;
lightning striking twice
in the same tattered places,

plowed soil readied for bare feet
to run tiptoe in new gardens;

evening constellations
playing footsies
with a fading half moon.

These cypress trees take root,
sway in singing wind

teasing breeze,
tickling lovers

until Winter feels like Spring.

~

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