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Freesia and You

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Smell of freesia and orchids in the air
Spun of youth and mirthful laughter
Stuck to you like a tattoo.
Your body resides in a city of twilight
Yet your soul confides to the place
Of rusty playgrounds and adieus.
Why must you face toward the barren deserts?
They have nothing there for you
But canyons of jagged climbs and scarlet plateaus.
Only the heat to assure your presence
And the towns of burnt and old to greet you
If you bring back the city taste--- a quid pro quo.
If you were to leave me and exchange my sentiments
For old town memories and expectations
Where else will I find hazel tresses on floors?
The leftover blossoms in veranda gardens
Aprons with stains and blotches of
Sweet tulips— or your favorite retail store.
Your longing for those jeweled mesas in the summer’s heat
Is too much away from my power to lure you in
You are entwined in a calling knot.
Memories that seem to wash your mind
And waves to scrap off your feelings
It calls your name like I call for your heart.





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