Loves Bloom

Opening on a meadow's garden.
Spreading wings as pedals pardon. Enticing breeze, if you please.
Succulent nectar just to tease. Imploring fragrance to expedite.
A gentle touch to excite. Love bloomed into fullness.
In all its splendid goodness. But to wither and to die.
Or be blessed with passion's sigh.

by Margaret Watts

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