Until your return,
I remain
an unopened bud
on the precipice of spring,
ardently awaiting
the sun’s sincere kiss
to carefully unfold
its pink, velvet petals.

Forests of thought trimmed into poems
Until your return,
I remain
an unopened bud
on the precipice of spring,
ardently awaiting
the sun’s sincere kiss
to carefully unfold
its pink, velvet petals.
