Paintbox

Spring Child

Born from a daffodil,
Sipping tea from buttercups as the bitter frost which nips at your toes
Fades into a warm early morning dew.

Sleeping on moss waking to the trill
Of the bluebirds as they sing the sunrise
Which casts a sepia filter on the sky filled with pastel shades.

Baskets left to fill
With brightly coloured buds
And flowers with fresh perfumed petals to make the flower crowns and daisy chains in colours that match the soft linen pegged to dry

Flour from the mill
Used to make sweet cakes for a lunch
Of citrus fruits and fizzy water,
With a soft wind merging with the sunbeams.

Cotton dresses covered in lace frills,
And light crisp shirts to battle the cold freezes that still wash over
Like a reminder that winter was once here.

The soft scratch of quills,
And the sweeping o paintbrushes,
As creativity blossoms in the warmth,
Ideas hopping around like newborn bunnies,
Their soft tails poking through the lavender.

And the late night chills
As the sky is painted a deep navy blue
Dotted with tiny stars to wish upon
And the moon to gaze at longingly
As the day closes to an end and the comforting silence of the night draws in,
Leaving a feel of nostalgia.

5.3.16