you're sweet but not perfect
or maybe perfectly sweet
although being perfect
is never entirely sweet
thus you are not perfect
but surely sweet
fooling me’nto believing
you're sweetingly perfect
while perfecting the art
of never being sweet

spring came with her multitudes
like a palm sunday procession
entered town thru the front door
walking down the street
as the soul walks from
father to mother

the bird from the town hall clock went out
to welcome her
fell over winter rags
pouring the time over people

spring
this daughter of time
put on too much perfume
her round breasts are like two strawberries