It is May


it is May
the hungry eyes of a ragamuffin
inspects an afternoon

cobblestones gets dappled
with loosened red petals

sky empty as the paleness
of your lips in the photo
tainted with a hue of forgiveness

looking out the window
perhaps at the tree losing florets
your hair disheveled
by the warm hand of summer

i saunter along a path
in the iciness of
a bygone winter

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