You fragrance the warmth that resides in my heart.
Your heat is implicit in my aromatic words,
and yet consistency’s missed from your promised bouquet.
I dream of wild lily to spice your bouquet.
I pray for pale rose to prod my yearning heart
into blooming, creating a garden of words.
You hide in the trees, whispering the words
I need to capture and show in a scented bouquet.
Speak louder, please: help me speak from my heart.
Let me express my heart in a bouquet of ardent words.
My response to Day 7 of NaPoWriMo 2016: write a tritina
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