For The Sunday Muse Prompt #44 and some words from The Sunday Whirl Wordle #392. Image “Ireland” by Emily Soto, fashion photographer

Maybe it was the scent
of roses- freshly cut,
wafting in on the evening breeze
that stole my attention;
the jolt intruding the same way
the reverb of a gentle tap
interrupts a deep reverie,
a dream receding as though
it were a distant vista seen
through the lens
of a collapsing wormhole.
Where cold, hard, and grey
once reigned, a wreath
of red leaves begins to spring,
its colours a bright tide
more alive now than it ever was.

3 thoughts on “44

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