The white flower picked from a field fit for a queen.
From a child's silky hair it flew.
In sync with the light breeze it went.
Passing over hills and valleys the rose rollicked.
Rising higher and higher the flower gave a performance.
It twirled and twisted, never wanting to stop.
After, a phenomenal display of enjoyment, the flower started winding down.
Ultimately the frosted rose stopped dancing and settled down to rest, perfectly in a field of red.
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10 comments:
Such beautiful imagery. A lovely poem.
Nice imagery, pretty simple but great.
Cool story, really like the choice of words you used.
Pretty story about the life of a flower, makes me want to be in the field with it.
I have often seen flowers doing similar acrobatics, I love your descriptions and wish I was there to see this particular frosted flower.
I liked how you used personification. Have you seen a flower do that before?
I was drifting with the red rose. Thank you for sharing a beautiful image with me.
I love how simple yet unique this poem was.
Simple, yet breathtaking!
I love how small and simple this is and how amazing of an image it brings to your mind.
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