poetry & things

The wild unknown

Fast her wild days ran tall as forest foxglove,

long the happy sun of wing full prayers and beating drums

grassy knees ripening green on summer’s lawn

honeycombed hideouts of laughing stings and bees

running long through wild meadows

pale of butter’s milky cream

a child’s face soft as flower petals

so quick to bud into full bloom

blushing in her rosy days

a swan soon flies to the wild unknown

there where an hourglass looks on

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