Painted Fresh


Painted us a memory 

Frozen in time 

The fragrance sleeps

To be awakened someday 

Not by wishful thinking 

But the scent of fresh reality 

So we fall asleep 

As sleeping giants do

Into a deep slumber 

Until the roses begin to bloom again 

Painted fresh from our memory

*

photo courtesy of pixabay.com

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17 thoughts on “Painted Fresh

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