We are pink with blooming emotions,
in this pub tonight.
It's as if everyone had a new life quest to pursue.
Like a tree,
but moving only in the sway of the winds,
blooming only in warm air currents,
and shriveling up wrinkled,
in absence of it's caressing aerie breezes.
Where would you move, with a new love interest?
Beyond this blooming globe?
To arid, violent Mars, or boiling liquid chemical Venus?
Let us contain the tree in lovely warming wafts,
and creations benevolent and fruitious.
Deleting the wrinkles of icy absence.
Writing by Regina Stemberger