who said this would be perfect
unbroken chance in neighborhoods
on green cultivated complex
soaked in wetness fen, blooming
sunflowers, sturdy stems reveal
unpale yellow answers held within,
no excuse, no mess, simply life
coming forth enthroned.
Along the edges of an open
door, a breeze stills me in coolness
flaired, I file it for times when
the sun burns forested thorns
isolated and tossed back
on the asphalt tracks gone.
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