salad days

Despite all the wonderful prompts, this poem did not originate from one; it has been rolling around in my head all day, and must be let out.

garnish me with more than green side to side start with white plate blue eyes

flutter lashes long and cautious

where do I find you fresh and warm

crisp or wilted fingers grasp for past

shredded hearts dressed with time

[Less than 100 words, but that’s where it wanted to end. Want to help me bust through my writer’s block this month? Read about this exercise!]

← An IndieWeb Webring πŸ•ΈπŸ’ β†’

I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.