like an echo …
an echo in winter
hollowed of all green & boldness
twined & waiting on the fragile sureness of you
a petaled complexity
vesseled by channeled hands of trust &
dressed in tea-length-edwardian melancholy
no, not melancholy !
that is blue
smelling of wild mushrooms, merlot & november's sky
this is merely ...
tasting of first snow upon my tongue