Pretty Blue Lilacs

Pretty blue lilacs growing in the spring:
Clustered like cloudless puff of post-dawn sky
Or frothy magic ointment dabbed to bring
Back life to greyish leaves about to die.
It would be nice if "lilacs heal" were true,
Their fragrance a potent drug, breathed in
Each springtime moment without doubt bound to
Heal all grave injuries from soul to skin.
Or if the bunch of little blue blossoms
Were a kind divinity's gentle fist
To strike us back to happy form, like some
Smith's hammer mends bronze statues gone amiss,
Then would I give you bouquets of lilac,
And hope their miracle brings your smile back.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Tenebrae, in the year 507 AD.