Spin

this poem is a summer meadow

steep grassy slope overlooking

but these childish words look up

swim through a blue that has no terrestrial simile

blue sky white clouds green grass

the memory spins dizzied

by cloud dancing

twirling whirling

down drift the apple blossoms

soft in the breeze

blushed petals caress a child’s skyward face

and that blue sky returning the child’s gaze

saw the blossoms as white clouds on a child’s face amongst green grass

the memory spins and drifts into that green meadow

when the apple blossoms are spent.

 

wk-107-spin.jpg

9 thoughts on “Spin

    • Thank you. This one just fell out, running after that first line that demanded to be put on paper, so I let it go and wasn’t sure about it. It’s growing on me.
      Glad to give you pretty after giving you sad in my CR flash, Miss Robbie.

      Like

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