Spring; in a garden

Nymphs give me kisses,

Brushing against my knees and shoulders.

I become intoxicated by the faint lull of the tulips.

I breathe their lullaby in through my nose as it floods into my ears.

I am overcome with the beauty of their sound,

So subtle and so pure.

The sun winks at me and strokes my cheek,

Giving the whole afternoon a faint glow.

I look at vines, that climb high up the walls,

And I swear I can see them grow.

Why do the try so hard to grow,

Where, O where, do they have to go?



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