Then,
the petals had to fall,or change?
into new leaves, early green.
the breeze brings dust alongside.
intensified, with the wheelers will.
The sun, more near, daringly rude
Dry tap, dry days
June is not far….
I yawn thinking that.
Spring melt in the scorching sun.
Summer,
I can’t hate it…for
winter is still bitter in memory.

  • Petals (lyricpoetlady.wordpress.com)
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