The hint of a rose appears in spring
The promise of soft petals opening
Lovingly planted in fertile ground
Soft branches doubling, skyward bound
While slowly intertwining.
Each petal forms the perfect cup
For dew drops, duly swallowed up
Deeply rooted, determined to grow
As nature induces a natural flow
This mere human cannot interrupt.
Is it that time already? I certainly can’t speak for your locale, but if a bloom sticks its head up around here, it’ll be a goner before sunset. Ha! No matter, this warms the cockles of an old guy’s heart. Thanks…
In my head it’s spring! In my backyard we got about six inches of sleet yesterday topped off with a couple inches of rain. Mix that with 10 degrees overnight and all you’ve got is the hope of roses! Thanks, Bob.
We have had scarcely a freezing temperature here but it figures that now everything here is starting to bloom that we would get a freeze.
Freezing here, too…but we can all dream with this lovely poem…
Sorry Oz. But, with all that sunshine and things already starting to bloom you’re still way ahead of the game!
Jo- thanks. It can be springtime in our hearts if nowhere else!
I confess that I am nearly totally ignorant of poetic forms. Is this one that I should know, or are you just winging it?
Your language is so evocative when you paint word pictures. Your poems are deceptively simple in appearance.
Hi Keats- I seldom write to form. I just wing it most of the time. Thank you…perhaps you are just very perceptive!