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You Decorate Me
November 20, 2017
You weave my mind like a flower crown,
Resting upon a monarch's head
During coronation day.
The flowers making you up were
Plucked straight from the fertilized dirt,
Freshly moistened with rain,
Of a fairies perfect flowerpot.
Stems, olive green,
Pushed towards the sky.
A central line of nutrients,
Feeding your cluttered mind.
I bow at the throne of your thoughts,
Feeding off every word.
Your lips, an altar to the proverbs they hold.
You, the preacher, speaker of all things
Pure and fine.
© Grace F., West Chester, PA
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