To search outwards defines strength,
To wander in the fields of black roses and purple orchids,
Dance around and around under the late summer sun,
Tumblers of pink lemonade, gin and chock full of ice cubes,
Straws and a slice of lime to accommodate,
Gather yourself and meet us there,
We can watch the sun cast it’s light across the evening setting sky.
This art does hurt.
The fusion of good words,
Entwine the threads of conversations,
Little purse kept gems,
Cropping up matters of hope,
Decadent the poison is to be removed,
A vortex of whims dragged below the lavender flower beds,
The chopped heads of flowers will fall to the earth,
Dusty and devout throughout the late afternoon,
Struggling for breath in between,
Drowned in a river of mothers weep and pink lemonade.