Garden

Dawn breaks, the dream aches to be lost, to be set free in my mind’s eye, the picture resides spotted subtle hues. The disgruntled I know you the fevered thank you and all the things which will never come through Though the smoke screen is removed I don’t see anything new Primrose landscape Butterflies trying to escape Azaleas standing shyly against the air drooping eyelids a dilapidated stare Fresh scented air with warm decanted flair Green boughs Plaited ploughs