Yellow Tulips and an Afternoon Poem

It happened in a newborn moment
sparkling with imbroglios of fortune
catching you with snaggles,
burying their burning tendrils in your palm.

Where is the symphony, the opera and the rat-tat-tat?
Would you settle for that field of growing grain?
Stalks whiskered with morning dew,
breaking the sunlight into laughter,
your touch as dear as astrophysics.

yellow tulip nine years old .jpg
Yellow Tulips, Genus Sureptitious, 9 years old!!

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