HER MIND IS A BUTTERNUT SQUASH

Her mind is a butternut squash,

tender and sweet,

its thoughts tangled like vines,

woven through the labyrinth

of orange and gold.

In her dreams, butterflies

sip nectar from the flowers

that bloom on her hair,

each petal a whisper of wisdom,

each stem a song of serenity.

The sun rises in her thoughts,

a golden orb of possibility,

casting shadows that dance

in the corners of her mind,

where secrets are cradled

like seeds in the earth.

Her laughter echoes

like a chorus of songbirds,

each note a ripple in the air,

a melody that weaves

through the fabric of her spirit,

bright and boundless.

In the twilight of her musings,

stars bloom like daisies,

their light a gentle guide

through the forest of her imagination,

where cows graze on moonbeams

and cats whisper in the trees.

Her fears are shadows,

ghosts that flit through the dusk,

dispelled by the dawn of her courage,

a beacon in the night,

a lighthouse in the storm.

She walks through fields of thought,

each step a dance,

each pause a reflection,

her feet leaving imprints

on the sands of eternity,

trails that lead to worlds unseen.

In the garden of her consciousness,

roses bloom in the winter,

their petals a testament

to the magic she holds,

a wonderland of colors

where dreams take flight.

Her sorrows are rivers,

flowing gently through the valleys,

their waters a mirror

to the sky of her soul,

reflecting the storms

and the rainbows that follow.

In the stillness of her thoughts,

crickets sing lullabies,

their chirps a metronome

to the rhythm of her mind,

a gentle reminder

of the beauty in the quiet.

Her mind is a butternut squash,

tender and sweet,

a harvest of thoughts,

a bounty of dreams,

each one a gem,

each one a light.

© Richard Gordon Zyne  061324