Thy fingers make early flowers
of all things.
thy hair mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
(though love be a day)
do not fear, we will go amaying.
– E.E. Cummings
Even as the rain romances,
after all these swollen glances,
let’s just take our stolen chances;
and crown ourselves with ribbon dances.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop kissing). – E.E. Cummings
Happy May Day! And WHEW, to all who finished a strong poeming April!
Prompted by Toads.