Morning woke me
As the sun peeped in through;
Bright and beaming
Sky so blue.
Went to the garden
And picked flowers for you.
Blues and whites
Weeds and vines
They all gathered at my feet
My fingers examined each.
They were soft to the touch
Like your skin;
An aroma so wild and free
Like that musk you wore.
There in scented reverie
They called out to me.
Silly! I thought I heard you
I would pick wildflowers
For you all day
If I can.

But wild things aren’t meant for man…




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