Thinking of flowers as fall sets it’s sights on the world.
Somewhere there lies a place
of peace and waving fields
rows of lavender
under the Tuscan sun.
I hear it call like long a lost lovers whisper,
come back to me,
to a place you’ve never been.
Wine flows like a river of clear white water
and cheese nestles next to olive stuffed pleasantries,
and fresh warm bread melding into the moment
with the scent of comfort
rising in the air.
We shall sit there
amongst the quiet fields,
my color of choice,
like a waving carpet
shades of Violet, lavender edibles to the eye
short of plum,
nothing else is missing
except for being there at this moment,
while a thousand miles away
we sit beneath our own piece of the sun,
and the only thing missing is that particular shade
of loveliness, joy, and the experience and scent
of lavender on the wind.
thoughts on this…
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