This poem is for the Miracle Girl and her current WordPress challenge. Visit her blog to read the rules and write your own story or poem from several prompts.
Two Words: butterflies and key
When Spring was juvenile and girlish
polishing her silver key of perfection
brushing her mermaid hair
gathering and coddling
first blooms and baby birds,
she danced barefoot on the verdant grass.
She guided butterflies
as they wove their monarch story
through leaves and vines
and towering houses of the finest flowers.
Then the Big Heat boldly arrived
in a burnished chariot
pulled by snorting steeds
in passionate madness
in total delirium.
Spring was overcome
weakening under his gaze
growing old and frail
under such intense scrutiny.
She tied up her now wispy mermaid hair
The Big Heat
scornfully overtook the land
driving the inhabitants
indoors to breathe the fragrant blooms
of captive flowers and greenery
watching through the keyhole
for the Heat to expire and take flight.