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Dandylions In Springtime Cages


opium scented afternoons spent in the hour of marigold. the wind soars through threshold, stroking my ebony mane with tenderness in each caresss. the smoke swirls in the air hitting the cracked ceilings. patiently i wait for the moment the melodies in tandem with my heartbeat. my spirit lies in the essence of sound and provocatively it dances. my spirit dances, wounded with realization, aching to soar beyond the window, to be free, to be free without the pains of an immaculate heart.

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