perennial spring
Amazing poetry shared by a talented writer.
the sky is frozen at dawn, masked by gray smokescreens drifting down the neighbors’ sloped rooftops and hovering between the tips of budding lemon trees. a ghost’s breath emerges from my set of parched lips, that i imagine as the hydrangea’s sweet blush rising from my neck, when i reach my fingers towards the fading moonlight. memories of a quiet summertime brings the smell of lavender caressing my cheeks and blackberry juice kissing my fingers; the sickly soft breeze flows through my hair and brushes it back until i can only feel the mist settle onto my eyelashes — but it’s the hum of distant honeybees that carries me back from the moment that is not mine to keep.