Like a humming bird you flit throughout the garden hovering over the most beautiful flowers sampling their nectar and tasting their honey
You are obsessed with their brightness and their fragrance that last for so short a time you cannot see past the colors or realize that their exotic beauty is only temporary never looking to the center of the garden
There a simple Irish rose sits so pale, so delicate, yet so strong her beauty is not so brilliant as those of the exotic flowers but her beauty will out last theirs for her beauty comes from deep within the her
Yet the little Irish rose is sad for you barely notice she is there you fly past her.... allowing your wings to brush her with your warmth but you only glance at her and once again you are off to the others in the garden
That which you assumed to be dew drops on her lovely petals, are actually tears for she silently cries in her love for you she yearns for your touch to feel your wings kissing her petals to feel you probe within her depths, to sample her nectar
As night approaches... and the other flowers start to fade and die away you come to rest on her branches branches which are strong and true and you sleep in the comfort that she offers you where she shelters you with her love
And at the dawn, once again you abandon her to seek the new days beauty in the garden. Ignoring her loneliness, her tears day in and day out, you take refuge in her branches till one night you come flying in to take your rest
And you see she has wilted away that you have wasted so much time amongst the other flowers in the garden that you did not notice that she was dying that she could not hold out forever
Her petals now scattered across the ground her dreams blown about by the wind and no more can she share them with you as too late, you see that the little Irish rose was your haven and your home
~ SweetLittleThing
Notes From The Author: You may e-mail me with any comments about my poetry.
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