Where little beauties always seem to lie:
Betwix the jaunty bricks, nostalgic heralds,
Drunk on the passages of time they tumb
le to the mistress, pastured eloquence,
The natural and ever clothed in splend-
rous vividries! You dainty thing of all!

Who tends such patches unesteemed?
The bunch unkempt yet ever in a force,
What is the scent of your delight?
So heady of a life of precious sort,
Where is your lover little sights?
For you are laden with the richest love.

Pink petals crown the leaking heart,
So summoning from shallow wounds,
The direst pain. To barely bear,
A naked flame in passing hours,
Rose carnations bloom.

Block coloured sky descends again,
Folding round the thick tree's edge,
Blending it's turquoise and teal into shaded crevices,
And at once the world outside is blue and humid.

Playing with the fog beyond,
It takes light strokes at far off folks,
Tall austere greens are turned pale blue,
And solid bark is pulled thin to fading wisps afar.