Caressing her instant pride, he looks down sharply,
Do you like me bright or just pink as you, a shy
glance, reflecting his own shadow. Am I too harsh?
There was a silence, an amusing wind, mocking by-
The green chlorophyll awaiting the end and the
culprit, as a lamb, wondering the innocent crime.
Jaws felled; the sly wind passed.
It seems I am a haunting soul, marring your speech,
true, I only see a false gold, but I killed your flowers,
I am gloomy, heartless iron on fire, deep red, rusting
within, I am only a vile, hurting your nimble children.
A loud crackle- earth soiled at the roots, see how dimly
the mighty ball confess the artful guile, much time.
Discomforted; the silly earth quiet.
She saw a layer of utter remorse upon the lusterless
matter of life, mourning for a subliminal thought,
what a pity- unaware of the goodness, his virginity
harmed and she could only weigh the treasure.
Heightening the tendrils up towards him, she placed
the silk petals on his sullen cheeks, slightly hot, but
enormously hurt, to leave her marks placid.
Look at the little buds, who rise to touch your hands,
every morning, when they want to learn to walk,
how delicately your warmth turns the earth into an
icy blanket at evenings, and pushes me into a balmy
light. The gold you lighten on my branches, is your love
I value, noblest of all, the birth of our souls.