by A. Sea Herndon


May, she is the kindest month

Can you see that Truth?

Lovers meet in apple groves


I pledge my love to you

Never will that season cease

Eternal is that rose

Deny me, if you must

Each heart must beat its own

Wills & wants

I understand

Thoughts control our fates

Thoughts are the least I owe

Hope is the recurrent theme

Even in blunt prose

Resurrection woven in

Nature and the stars

Deserts become jungles

Oceans now dry land

Nothing lasts; all is born again