The First Bloom
I would be the echo in your thrill -
Merely a sound of the nature
A posy in your hands, or a chill
-maybe- in a distant pasture.
I would go - away and back
For, tides run faster than bliss
A kiss in a loner's eye, a black
Viola that covers the abyss.
I would melt in your touch
And chill in you nevertheless,
Your young breeze and such
Leave me bare with tenderness.
No change can cause aridity,
For it's raining since the doom -
I, being born or reborn, sweetly
Breathe like the first bloom.
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