She walked her dream and looked around
With smallest flowers on the ground
The yellow bees were buzzing by
She spied a rose, and heard it sigh
The tiny drops of dew were clear
And playfully as she came near
The thorns did glistened but obeyed
The hand that once had held the spade
The hand that held a knife to prune
A blossom tender for her room
Did cut the rose, a fragrant scent
She’d not return ‘til this one spent
Loved the images and personification in this poem. Beautifully lyrical and perfect meter for a most pleasing read! Brenda
ReplyDeleteBrenda,
ReplyDeleteI must admit that I've been taking secret lessons from you. Your work is so delightful. Thank you.
In peace, Dixie
Dixie, this was very beautiful! Roses are my favorite flower, and your words light my heart with joy.(smile)
ReplyDeleteI loved the image of the rose, and the words of your poem were just perfect. Really wonderful work!
Thank you for sharing,
Mattie
Mattie,
ReplyDeleteAs you may have guessed: when Brenda is busy writing, I'm at your site taking lessons!
I did spend 10 cents at a yard sale for a "rhyming dictionary." It was so interesting I fell asleep reading it. (grin)
Your comments are too kind; I am grateful you visit here.
In peace, Dixie