Vaccinius

Tuesday, 5 September 2017

Growth



A drawing. Sweet drawing. By me. Seeing her eyes. Looking ahead. Hope. Faithfulness. Love. I know her. She is me. My muse. My everything. My love. She is always changing. Appearances. Fall. She dies. Drawn. Seen. Whatever.

growth to winter come
bread or a new beginning
bluebells cannot choose

.·: † :·.
This poem is shared on the prompt of dVerse | here |.

8 comments:

  1. Lovely to see you writing again Anders.
    Much love
    Anna :o]

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  2. Such a heart rendng haibun but such a lovely picture of a smiling young woman. Thank you for participating. Bluebells cannot choose. Oh how that makes me tear up.

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  3. Bluebells cannot chose, don't let them close.

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  4. A beautiful sketch and haiku, especially the line: bluebells cannot choose.

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  5. beautiful haiku, thanks for sharing this.

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  6. Oooh! Love the last line, that the bluebells cannot choose.

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  7. bluebells - loved seeing fields of them in Texas when we lived there - certainly not fall flowers - makes me wonder if this is about a real person or your muse. Either way - poignant.

    ReplyDelete

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