May by Ann Wood
MayI am very different every month.
(And I think - what of it?)
There is no end to such love -
every moment you rediscover the world ...
But in May, when the poplars bloom,
don't turn your head.
Every fluff circling in space
is my soul. You know this.
I will remind you forever -
very fluffy, white, and clean.
I will be May. Only yours. To the end.
And even in your sleep, you will want me ...
I will sleep in the poplars. Even
only the wind will turn me.
How many tales will he tell,
and in all I am happy ...
And in all, I am flying -
like a fluff - a firefly in the night.
I'm May. And they call me Happiness.
And you love me like that.
Poetry by Ann Wood
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Written on 2020-05-31 at 15:33
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