Blind Beauty

One can not see
The pictures in my head
The spectrum of colors
From black to red

Quiet pounds my ears
Like a symphony drum
Blind, my senses alert
I am the opposite of numb

Does it make scents
My nose knows why
Geraniums talk to me
In a lover's cry

Hugged by the beauty
I do not see
I can feel the blue
As it beckons to me

It happens each spring
Each month of May
Maybe its the warmth
From the golden day

I'll pluck a flower
From its seeded home
Just like a librarian
Holds an ancient tome

I will stand in silence
Until the shadows cloak
Then all the beauty fades
Like some cruel joke.

Leaving the field
I am reminded of two things
The sweet perfume in my mind
And all the endless springs