Nature has its seasons and we can but follow. Here in Charentes the infinity of greens begins to merge into a unity as the adolescence of Spring finds for now at least, that adult face in which it will live called Summer. Ladies, let’s not think of those wrinkles and that gravitational pull of time on our tender assets.
I often look to flowers for metaphors of love, sex and the cycle of being. I’ve added a poem called “Bluebells” to my website. It’s about those things that pass and that we cannot hold. Click here to go to my website, and select “My Poems” Emma’s Poetry
If you’ve any love of French or just its sound and music check out