Following the garden path
the perfume of the roses wafting
towards my senses
As the gentle music of
the song bird allows me to be present
To water trickling from the meandering
brook purging blood
from my lonely self
Encompassing sweet sensations
brings me an ease of a tumultuous
past. All temptation subsides.
My footing grazes the cobble stones
reassuring me of moving forward
past my ill heart
that only the blue jay understands
Lost in the mural overshadowing
raspberry orange tea, I come back to
the present as my pot of tea once hot
now tepid. The jazz overhead
clears my mind.
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