Dilemma Of The First Sprouting Flower Of Spring.

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Blog Post About This Poem.

The winds of winter tired after their howls, left,
To hibernate in the North and the sleeping seeds woke,
Listening to whispers of romancing birds in their nests,
As the falling dew in the rhythms of their hearts danced.

The new birthed winds with their baby wings gave,
A soft touch upon the cheeks sprouting a smile,
Ah’ those winds still in their hands carried,
The cold of the winter and the warmth of summer.

In the further corner of the sight seen,
The crashing waves that gave sounds of thunders,
Their rolling like the unfree soul of an ancient prisoner felt.
Who fell enslaved to the romance of an unattainable heart.

And that heart sat in the sprouting bud of a first blossom,
Of a spring about to unfold beauties unseen by mankind,
But in dilemma sat thinking, is it the heat of summer?
Or the left out frost of winter she should unfold to?

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