if only the tulips could speak
and tell us the secrets of their sweet nectar.
she was aware of his eyes,
his married, married eyes too brown not
to be true,
his true, brown eyes slipped into he aura,
his voice touched her heaven.
a card fell to the ground
she plucked up the moist white petal
and read the words printed on the card:
the words awakened her mind,
he glanced at her and his pupils grew large
she ran, almost
and the tulips brushed against her neck
and shoulders, and spirit
when she finally entered her bus for home
her scent was sweet and addictive
her voice gentler than the breeze of
this new melancholy spring,
with so much to offer.