lost in the flowers
the garden grew on a mountainous curve
of an angle only found by the measure of his words,
the branches would extended throughout the palms of
his hands and his son would play under the bushes and plants;
they’d tangle in the wood and find themselves lost in the flowers-
everyday was spring; though, childhood, an hourglass.
lost in the flowers
the garden grew on a mountainous curve
of an angle only found by the measure of his words,
the branches would extended throughout the palms of
his hands and his son would play under the bushes and plants;
they’d tangle in the wood and find themselves lost in the flowers-
everyday was spring; though, childhood, an hourglass.
Posted 2 months ago & Filed under poetry, attempting cursive, flowers, 5 notes
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