Minute Poem
Though the gain: I felt pain's misery,
fears blinded me.
They won’t depart,
just stop n start.
Now unfilled grave: To be trespassed
Death not surpassed.
It just returns:
hot after-burn
Showing that I would always be
trapped not free,
Whilst sold soul held
t’was never whole.
Winter fell; Dormant.
Sprung branch, pinked with tranches
of blossoms. They knew
Summer promised new life: Sung
by snug nested birds.
Same work with the directors cuts included..
Winter’s dormancy leaves
Its storm spared branches. To be
soon warmed by winds of Mistral.
Sticky, like treacle they budded,
As mother nature opened,
Her wondrous store cupboard
sprung blossoms pinked, then they grew
with soft tissue’s of purples and blues,
Large is assortment of in between hues.
Not battered or bruised these blossoms
Swelled with lifeblood of rain, moistened
Seeds grew till sweet apples burst through
