Afraid

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Reaching out onto a trail way,
Quietly, she blooms,
Bashful, as always,
Appearing, however, for you.

Rain settling in again today.

Visioning you here, always,
Wandering about her scent,
She carries your tender touch,
As she delicately sways.

Your offer, lingering upon her branch.

Desiring her simple colored hue,
Nature’s best effort shown,
And your sweet yellow delight,
Will she continue here, proving growth?

Or shy away, afraid of the light.

Lead…

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Can’t you,
please?

I ask, however,
Begging, it seems.
Capture, my essence,
And tell them,
For me.
Express my need,
Rooted inside,
Verdant grounding.

You must show,
How going without,
suffocates.
Robs me,
Of who I am.
My Muse,
Only you know.
This trail of wildflowers,
Varied, yet pristine,
And full of desire,
Leads…

I’m left here,
muted.

Pine

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Branches transforming into her hair
Watching, but not meaning to stare
I wonder, how often your mind goes there

Your hands slowly needing to gather
One delicate end to the other
In an effort to feel her

Lightest of tree feathers linger
Cascading through your rough fingers
Your senses confirming, as lips simper

Silky, smooth and smelling of pine
I know you think of her all the time
Understanding now, you’ll never be mine