Bloom

I see your rose has not awakened

Dare it be small and shaken

Does it create as it sews beauty?

It seems to deceive thine eye

Disclosed its  source so hidden

Yet magically enters its seeds from heaven

So demonstratively is to extract passion

And exists the reason for its position

As in the waiting is the suffering that’s due

To caress the tips of what will be new

Forever reveling in the bloom.


Posted by in Poetry