you are hedgerows in spring, fields of rapeseed dotted with poppies. you are petals drifting in a lazy brook, you are the burnished silver of mirrors after years of being abandoned. you are birds in the dawn chorus, you are the gold of venus against the sky.
if you were a flower you would be windflower, tossing its head in the breeze in early may. you are the opening notes to hallelujah. you are the perfect fifth, you are augmented sixth, you are the sound of a plagal cadence falling silent in an empty church. you are lambs wool caught on white fences. you are the smell of the lavender in provence. you are crowns of daisies left hanging on trees.
no longer taking!!