Like one drawn to cigarettes;
sauntering down lane,
am I to kiss, deepening
eyes -so full– of rain.
This winter of mud,
who knows what the hours will bring?
I’ve slept amongst buds.
Lilacs false know not hue, love
I will say it loud;
sideways in pall of black smoke
in this lonely crowd.
Of all the seasons,
Spring pushes forth at first chance;
look for life’s meaning.
Grace hosts at dVerse and invites us to try a new poetic form
known as “Seguidilla.” Come join us! 💝
Posted for Poetry Form, “Seguidilla” @ dVerse Poets Pub