The Sun is coming –
Spring flowers
In her flame red hair.
Her veil flows down her back,
Becoming a flickering train
Behind her
That turns up the earth as she passes,
Leaving frost thorns burrowed
And snowdrops standing
In their place.
Soon we will be able to walk
Along the ground,
Barefoot among the bluebells.
Behind her
That turns up the earth as she passes,
Leaving frost thorns burrowed
And snowdrops standing
In their place.
Soon we will be able to walk
Along the ground,
Barefoot among the bluebells.
Copyright LJ 2021.
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