he tied a ribbon
on the old walnut
tree by the side
of the road
every april
as the last of the
winter snow
had faded to
muddy ground
patches of yellow
with hints
of verdant growth
and the lone
red ribbon
dancing in the
soft breeze
with hints of
it hadnt worked
to guide
her wayward soul
back into
his loving embrace
even as green
buds began to
line the gray white
but in his heart
beneath the
doubts that
whispered soft
lies and worries
he knew she
would one day
see the tattered
ribbons hung
in his patient
love does what
love wishes
whether or not
we see the wisdom
in chemically
altered bliss
rewrites who we
thought we were
in electrified
jolts of static
jumping from
one blossoming
to another
dialed to the
right frequency
among a sea
of frantic phantoms
immaterial in a
world of material

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