Silky petals

Could not the Odyssey spare me a Nightingale

Thereby offering me promising hope of warmth

Invite me to picture a rural sylvan of green tops

Colorful butterflies in flight and light hair girls

Chasing after without real intent to surrender

Oh, I could almost hear their echoing laughter

As I lay alone, reading somewhat sprawled out

Upon an inviting blanket where I offer them rest

Then, we would chat about the flowers and moon

And of course, love and lazy afternoons- all alone

Sisters or friends endeavoring to become women

And I- merely but lad desiring to become a man

Would only too happily feel obliged to them both

After all, what then is nature for if not to…bloom  

.

Poet of the Light © 2023

Photo by Maksim Goncharenok on Pexels.com

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