L'aura del Campo

This dissonance

This dissonance

Attracted to one, in lust with another,
the bee finds its favorite flower brother,
thinks it has fallen in love.

In Spring when the air warms up,
in Summer as roses bloom,
their fragrance a taste of honey and doom,

when trapped by the changing weather
as dry as the drought on your heather,
no kiss blown my way.

Yet lust and the falling in love,
a Never that bears no fruit, only pain.
I wither then drop to rot in Autumn's rain.

© Kåre Enga September, 2014

another recent scratching that needs an edit or a haircut or... something. Just posting is an accomplishment!