Sunday, April 26, 2015


Blossom by Phil Greenwood


The petals fly through the air on a soft breeze.
I so want to be one of them, pretty please.
I yearn for their freedom and grace
As they fall softly in their place.

I want to run through this white paradise.
Nothing can be as perfect or as nice.
They fall like snow flakes on a winter’s day,
Tempting all children to come out and play.

Lying like puffs of snow on the grass,
I can’t let this experience pass.
I must go outside right away.
I don’t know how long they will stay.

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