Oh, Flowers

Oh, the flowers

Upon the bower

Upon these hours

Stir sides in me.

As they scour

My sense with thoughts

Of allure wrought

My mind’s set free

 Don't Forget To Be Writing

My side devours

Ill-got and sour

Yet by these flowers

My thoughts are balked

Oh, the flowers

Are sweet these hours

But by the bower

My thoughts are gawked.