Lost flowers

I wish these lost seeds peace, and these new flowers place.
A place complacent with placid streams of love, ambition, and hope.
The irony is many use ripples in the water to cope with
the hope of being taken up by a false wind blowing through tinted windows.
Only if they could see….
A vision pass the fog.
A place pass the lovers din
where temporary desires are dressed
up in dreams; the kind of dreams that are formed from genuine love but hang onto false frames of infatuation.

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