You write beautiful poetry
the perfect imagery drips
out of your mind
like juice from lemons
and I wish I can catch
some on my tongue
instead of snowflakes in
the winter
so I can savor their melody
and commit them to memory
and sing out some
of my own.
Lonely leaves in autumn
repenting
for our sins,
fluttering cherry blossoms
spiraling onto
a lonely canvas
of white snow
captivate me
in your poetry
like a young child
by the fantasies
in bedside stories
I try to recall
the flavor of the drops of beauty
that rolled off your tongue
but can't capture a single imagery
Like dreams,
they are savored fleetingly
grasped silkily
slipping through
me,
not able to be fully recalled
or held firmly
Lemon drops of poetry
rain on me
falling through my skin
their rhythmic
pitter-patter
and drip-drip-drip
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