, ,

Black buds curving

Their shy heads into

Exquisite silhouettes

Stab their being

Into tall stems

Bleeding elegance

— Little weapons

With deadly spikes —

Needle-work ecstatic dreams

Of happy spring reunions

Into the abyss of time

Passing through

The shadow lace

Of winter tree branches

Barren, frozen, unchangeable

Covering the mournful face

Of the long-lost blue heaven

— Sweet rapiers of desire

Cutting hearts into

The very shape of beauty

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