Saturday, February 5, 2022

Searching for Tussilago Farfara


Like me, you're alien to this land.
You must be scarce, for I have not 
Spotted you once, my long-lost friend,
in all these years...and I forgot 
your heart-shaped leaves (that now I hear
look like colts' feet   no! hearts,) the gold
of yellow flowers that appear
before the leaves—out with the old
in with the new—heralds of spring,
anxious to bloom...I did forget
the suns I used to pick and bring
home, though they did not keep; and yet
I do recall the way it felt 
your touch. My little fingers traced
your leaves' soft lining as I knelt
on warm earth, sunshine on my face.

Live for the Love of it,
Sasha A. Palmer (aka Happy)

image: Pixabay

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