The tin crimped flowerbed
Raised up off the tired
Fading brick floor
Held so gently the pink
And red geraniums
That bobbed in the
Sweet afternoon breeze.
The jasmine died weeks ago
But even the sight of
The brown leaves,
Far out of season,
Still held the ghost
Of that feeling
The smell painted on my brain.
Within the redwood fence line,
Atop the lazily-bricked patio floor.

Sam Spring is a 28-year-old nomadic writer working to save up for a van. He dropped out of SMC to sell bongs online and is the lead singer of the band ‘Tennis Club’ with their music being streamed over 7,000,000 times. Sam bounces around the West, staying with lovers and friends. He has work appearing in Passengers Journal, The Wisconsin Review, and Denver Quarterly, among others. Find his writing, music, and art here —> www.samspring.me