spring

a poem for an old love... unlike me!

It is springtime and there
Is blossom in the boughs,
And in your hair.

You say something but
The wind steals your sentiment,
Winging it to the azure.

I would lift my hand to catch it
But it would simply slip
Through graceless digits;

Instead, I turn to you and watch
The sunlight stroke your
Features. A smile blooms.

I cannot catch your words
But, tangled in the scent of Daphne
I have captured your heart.