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Face Up In A Perfumed Bottling of Nature's best

Updated on March 15, 2011

Dylan Arthur

Face up in a perfume bottle of nature's best.




That summer day I flopped belly up
in a lush bed of velvety grass
in the cow pasture
that makes up my two acres
with no mule included.

Sprawled amidst the dandelions
in a carefully structured way
so as not to crush their brightness.

They are one of flower-doms
most misunderstood creations,
I have tasted of
and grown giddy on
their sweet nectar wines
and I have masticulated
their most fragrant greens
with a side of steak
and baked potato.

I 've also sometimes determined
quite unscientifically
just how many of my friends
liked butter
on sunny-side up days,
and I brought many smiles
to my dearest departed mother
years ago when I brought her
handfuls of these dandy-cats
mixed with pussy willows
to pay tribute
to her tender love.
Near my reposing head
the daffodils and tulips
exuded their sweet
intoxicating fragrances
over the green bodies
of the then dozing crocuses.

Bees took target practice
at the colors on my shirt,
while the scent of a
freshly baked apple pie
squatted on a windowsill,
becoming a temptress
to my taste buds,
so that they seemed to blossom
like the flowers around me
in hungry spurts.

The sun bathed my flesh
like a face mask of warm mud.
I was absorbed in the soil
and feared I might soon grow roots
all work and any attempts to try to work
were totally out of the question
as I vegetated that day away
But then another flower
suddenly into my life intruded.

His blue eyes peering over
the hedge of my hair.

His smile so much brighter
then the sun, moon and stars.

His tiny fingers
wound like ivy
through the calloused roots
of my hand.

His musical sing-song voice
bekoning me away
to play amidst the puffs
and yellow lion heads.

He was my five year old perrenial
that bloomed from a tiny seed
I planted with deep love
and tender nurture,
in a place that brought forth
fruit so rare and magical,
that I watered it with tears
of wondrous gratitude.
So I rose to tumble with him
back into the lands of pooh
for I am his big bear,
and he's my honey.

To him I'll be forever true
we are married to our children
when we bring their souls to life.

There is no force on earth
that can render, rip or tear
me from his loving.

It is eternal...unchanging.

Rakes of hatred,
droughts of passion,
rains of sorrow,
fires of anger,
cloudiest days,
and bitter seasons
will not wither me
nor move me,
from this garden of my angel
where we'll bloom forevermore.


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