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!]