Windy day

The honeysuckle ,heavy as a crown,
Wanders,waving ,in the windy air
Yet its roots are anchored in the ground

The branches wave like arms without a sound
Searching for another wild and bare.
The honeysuckle ,heavy as a crown,

Soon will come the flowers, a  pink nightgown
Who can hold the treasure hidden there?
Its roots are anchored in the  underground

We don’t always know what we have found
Illusion cloaks  perception till it tears
The honeysuckle ,heavy as a crown,

Shall we  describe our virtue with a noun?
New perception tortures what is rare
But roots are anchored in the  underground

Knowledge hides inside a  new nightmare
In the darkness ghosts come out to stare
The honeysuckle ,heavy as a crown,
A  stunning ship now anchored in the ground

I welcome comments and criticism

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