I'm in need of paper white lilies,
unbending beneath steel-lined clouds
that bow to fertile Earth,
and life giving burial grounds.
Endless gray misty mornings
that stretch into the night;
I appraise a sleepy world,
I gaze on the gauze filled sight.
I'm in need of paper white lilies,
whose crowned heads come burgeoning forth
from a quiet slumbering bed,
like a resurrected corpse.
This birth from decaying blanket,
whose fragrance fills the air
and pushes away woolen complacency
that is evident there.
I'm in need of paper white lilies,
that burst up from underground
released from cold, quiet stillness
and unleashes hope from its bounds.
(I love you, Spring!)
