Spring sun sweet on skin
that still recalls the rain,
(it is not just raindrops that fall)
drunk is the forest beneath
those blood red moons
(blind are we to the fires we started).
Will you swim through the shadow
to beat away these bitter blues?
Beauty is a ship of summer symphony,
we are whispers to be worshiped
before our season stops to sing.
All words by Damien B. Donnelly with the help of the magnetic poetry oracle.