salad days

Despite all the wonderful prompts, this poem did not originate from one; it has been rolling around in my head all day, and must be let out. garnish me with more than green side to side start with white plate blue eyes flutter lashes long and cautious where do I find you fresh and warm crisp or wilted fingers grasp for past shredded hearts dressed with time [Less than 100 words, but that's where it wanted to end. Want to help me bust through my writer's block this month? Read about this exercise!]

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