Love Is Scarlet As Red Phloxes
M
Mark Heathcote
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Every heart can grow cankerous
To the apple core—turn bloodless.
Its paradise not avarice
Autumn gathers, stores, covets.
Secretly its cold abutments…
Want only to lock-horns like snails.
Forget feeling downcast, dullness…
Forget purple coloured veils-
Over sadness, we’re not goblins…
Memories can be tainted but
Love is scarlet as red phloxes
Gather your own harvest, chest puffed.
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