My Gift To You Poem by Black Mendilouche

These are my flowers, fresh plucked for you from the bowers of my imagination.

You are my muse and my words flow to amuse and move you through my play.

Lighting your day with some fresh scent,
Leant colour with a subtle artist's hand.

No grand protestation, no known destination except the hope that like a perfumed petal, inhaled and held within your memory;

my emissary, promissory note will find a home within your breast. There to rest some-while; perhaps forever.

A memory still sharp in recollection, as the perfection of those pristine blooms upon a field of blue. My gift to you x

May 2018