The black locust death
Of bittersweet gold
Bathing youth of memories
Burying harmony of endings
A reaping violet splendid to the nose
The perfume of her crowning womb
And enamored
Am I
By wicked roots
Biting through frost ridden soil
Trellised by a slant of blush light
Her countenance:
Cello storm building
Violin flutter distancing
Her stature a symphony:
Blood printed piano keys
And songless birds
Who’s wind chime bones
Echo in flight
E.A. O'Connell
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