He knew he had a rose inside
that struggled to be free
but all the salty tears he cried
reduced fertility
and though at times the sun would shine
to help it grow a bit
the constant clouds made him resign
with naught to show for it
which stirs the anger in his blood
convincing him he’s doomed
to being just another bud
that never truly bloomed.
Are You Reading Me?
Patience
ReplyDeleteEach rose will bloom within its given time
And not before
A picky lot that offer blooms sublime
Require more
Than simply hoping petals will unfold
To greet the sun
The beauty of the bloom we shall behold
When buds are one.
Bob,
ReplyDeleteI like your words, even though it is generally a lament of an unfulfilled life.
I feel like that, very often!
Best wishes, Eileen
Hello Bob,
ReplyDeleteGreat with this one as well.
Fantastic vocabulary!
Though all lines are nice but I liked these the most ...
"the constant clouds made him resign
with naught to show for it"
Regards,
Dimps
An appealing, sensitively written poem Bob, though the change of tense wrenches a bit
ReplyDeleteShirley I know, I know but I did just get an encouraging email today ;)
ReplyDeleteHi Eileen, yes that is exactly what it is, me feeling sorry for myself, but I'm over it (for) now.
Hi Dimps, thanks as always :D
Hi Jan, I know I pondered it all night last night but will leave as is for now, thanks for your thoughtful feedback.