~We used to swing on porches. High of summer. Drunk on laughter and eachothers company. Orange juice running from our lips. Oh how sweet it was. To watch the seed Crack open. Unfurling new. Awaiting the blossom. But the rain stopped falling and all that was left was dry autumn leaves tumbling in the winds of change. Swept away with the next season as the cold set in. Winters dark embrace pressing death heavy on the valley and deep into my chest. What a magnificent hole to refill. With each turn of the soil, I beg to reap what I sow. Hanging on vernal feelings of hope and peace.
Such a damned dance with you. Perennials I swore. Shall I wait for spring? ~
Original Writing and Art by Seraphia Christe.
Acrylic on Canvas. Prints available in 8x10 and 5x7