by Glenn Johnson
(Tucson, Arizona, USA)

Said . . . before my eyes . . . your beauty a pageant.
A procession of spring blossomings
ever unfolding
one after another
another after
Shimmers of reincarnate loveliness.
How do you do this?
I have no clue.
Nothing I could make up . . . to rare to contrive.

truth be told
I am compelled to charm you.
A desire that pales before the potency of your spell.

Although tempted
I dismiss any thought of diagnosis.

Your loveliness a miracle best left cloaked in magic.

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