Dear Spring...
because one verse of personified spring was not enough ~ poem 4/30
She tiptoes in with fairy steps, A breeze floats in her wake; Her name's a softly spoken call That brings dead things awake. Her roots are deeper than you know; Her blush a gorgeous green. She won't arrive with trumpets, but You know this girl's a queen. She wears a floral pastel dress Already lost her shoes; Her hair's adorned with twigs and sprigs And jewel-like beads of dew. A frog peeps out from her pocket, There's dirt on her bare feet; Her smile is gentle as sunrise-- Dear spring, you're honey sweet.
OHMYWORDDDDD this is so beautiful!!!! You’re so good at these holy cow girl!!!
Once upon a time I was writing a story about the four seasons as people, and this brings me back in the most wonderful way. I love how charming and playful this reads, and the moodboard at the end!!! Yes!!