On Flowers and berries*

How is it , Love,
That every where me finds
You or your ways
Of leaving fragrant
Your love, for me
A self proclaimed Vagrant,

How is it, Love,
That when you leave
Your works of art,
Figures and vases,
Flowers and strawberries,
As oft termed 'solids', Why is it that
You me searches
And by thy love,
Also You me finds,

Is it Ways Thine
To leave faint traces
Of you, onto me,
Like songs of yesteryears,
As if they are mine?

(*Note: loosely based on a painting  as attached, done by Pavlova Maria; courtesy: Alex Artista, Musica Pittura e Dintorni)


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