Madwoman’s Diary of Sweet Things

A Girl Called Flower

she is soft, sweet & serene,
trinkets & daisies adorn her hair,
light gives her a halo,
sight nicer than any nectarine.

my prose isn’t usually concise,
i prefer long poetic ramblings,
yet anything i write will bare my soul to her —
and still wouldn’t suffice.

she’s a picture i’d like to paint,
the scenery would be white,
pure as fresh driven snow,
she is a sight i never wish to taint.

so, flower, i pray,
a smile always stays on your face
but if it doesn’t, do not fret,
for butterfly is here to keep tears at bay.

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