The Blossom Dancer

A wreath of flowers in her hair
Cherry and apple blossoms curl
The air into colours of wishes
Lying at her perfect dancing feet.
What love there was in youth,
What freckles of light played
And pranced in those eyes
Filled with the swirls of Spring.
It was just a moment, a muse
Whose love made my eyes sing.

by Resten Swondo

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