By: Amoureax Amant

In March, pink bloom left branch with scent and blush,

with itch for spray in stream where lined bulrush,

drifting between the rolling wave and tide,

not wave and tide, but ease drew fragranced bride.

From stream to river, bloom held thrill and scent,

sailing with turtle, fish and adherent,

as flowing water rolling towards distant boom,

the shoresides beauties tied not feet of bloom.

In August, bloom drifting by woods filled peach,

if bloom stayed branch with flies in white, stayed beach,

there will be one more peach, but one less light,

swirling by valleys, woods, and shoresides sight.

If bloom was asked, what was the distant like,

the bloom may say, the world was free, homelike.