Flowers in the winter rain
murmur through winds of might,
unknown to the turf below,
Fables of strife and strain.
Drooping their heads so low,
brooding over bygone days
of sunlight and chirpy birds,
they tremble in fright and woe.
Crickets and bees alike,
tangoed on petals so bright,
daintily in dreamy land,
distant from this icy night.
The soft tint of a butterfly,
the warm touch of a golden sun,
embraced the little blossoms,
on days of the summer sky.
Stroking their heads, so light
whispered the gentle breeze,
“I have to leave tonight,
before the mountains freeze.”
The roaring skies took away
their only friend, dear
as the little petals cried,
lost in a land so wide.
Chilly nights rolled by
buried in snow and pain;
longing for a lullaby,
the blooms curl and fade away.
The broken wings of a tiny bug
fall on a buttercup, stirring
the frozen heart and painting
hopes of a sprightly sky.
The petite petals raise their heads,
from mounds of snowy beds;
Gazing at the passing clouds,
they dream of a saintly glow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
P.S: Here are 2 of my recent favorites; do check them out and relish their writing — Poonam Vashist, madiha
