She’s fussing about out there
in the garden again, cussing
out the flowers. Loves me, loves
-me-nots, forget-me-dids. Shattered
petals and lost bliss, and that one
murmured kiss that muddle-muddied
her sky. A wink, a leap. A crunch. The
kicked-in burn of heart’s last twist.
It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse and I’m hosting. Come play!