In the Garden

Twisted talons, tinged green,

Snarl and bite

Beads of sharp water glint with the morning rays

Knotted vines cower from the glaring light.

A solitary emerging flower

Whispers a pitiful, velvet melody

She recoils from the thorny glower

Her vibrant petals unscathed by the clawing vines

In the withering sun she waits

For the talons to wake from their wintery slumbers

And wash the garden with blossoming colours.

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed