Bouquets of birds, beneath stars, sun &
moon,
Waltzing in ribbon-posies, to breezy soft tunes,
Petals of swallows, strewn beneath grey clouds,
Like tossed silver coins, within billowing
shrouds.
Ferns of soft feathers, all resembling hued
blooms,
Flowers floating up to heaven, in melodious
plumes,
Within bunches & clutches, sprayed from
sky´s bowl,
Transmitting our prayers to God, yet still so
untold.
Bouquets of sweet birds, high upon canvas of
blue,
Flirting with senses, & to our hearts, willing
to woo,
Every little feather, each plume, a petal of
its own,
Dancing all our souls, back to their original
homes.
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