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the skipping dirt
puddles around an ancient tree.
as a slow and winding breeze
pushes her to me.

her crinkling skirt
flashes brightly white, faintly oui.
as a small bee buzzes, flees;
nimble eyes, hands, knee.

me, awkwardly curt,
stumble greetings, small, barely wee.
as clouds high and lofty, tease;
wafting salt and sea.

pink corollas flirt.
fleeting petals fall, shaking free.
as this small mouth utters pleas;
hoping she could we.

© 2017 rl bussél

This entry was posted in poetry.
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