Love Anew

Upon the breath of dew, and dove, and winds,

a cradle flows in tandem, and

a widow’s quest for love anew, begins.

*

Each and every thread of glue, she spins.

Delicate, like phantoms (gloved) in microscopic hands;

upon the breath of dew, and dove, and winds.

*

For her beaus and darlings, she'll accrue these crystal inns.

And while the hourglass does lose its brittle, cashew sands,

a widow’s quest for love anew, begins.

*

Every single lover is a candle for her yins.

And in the quiet yews and brambles, they do gift her vim, as planned -

upon the breath of dew, and dove, and winds.

*

Gingerly, she tiptoes - her tiny hands and feet are pins.

A fling, a dance, a romance on clean-woven, silken strands -

a widow’s quest for love anew, begins.

*

Oh, the touch of company - a fan of warmth upon her skins.

Then suddenly, a thirst for sweetheart stew she does not understand, (and)

upon the breath of dew, and dove, and winds -

a widow’s quest for love anew, begins.

***

-Gina C. 🧚‍♀️✨