Primrose
Delicate primrose, posing there,
The prettiest picture I took.
If you could keep those precious stones,
Imagine the lusting, the looks!
Yet, there you sit in grassed, mud patch,
The world will pass on by.
I wonder, are the twinkling gems,
The woeful tears you cry?
Take heart, flushed bloom, sat all forlorn,
As others, lonely, gaze,
Remember all the happy times,
You’ve dazzled & amazed.
Each day the dewdrops kiss your face,
Your pure complexion, clear,
Each time drops drip on fertile ground,
Another smile appears.
18th March 2019
There’s something special about walking in the rain, or aftermath, once the rain has fallen. I love to see the reflections on the ground, from light, or in puddles, or the rain drops sitting on top of, or about to drop off flowers, twigs, grass etc. The reflected colours or the way the droplets act as magnifying glasses to their surroundings, fascinates!
