Chargement...

My Garden, My Metaphor

By J Ann Crowder

Classic are darling vines—strong, woody stems
Catching mine eyes’ deepest inquisitions
Crowned leaves heavy by a fruit’s partition
Relinquishing delectable, sweet gems
 
She seeks inside for wide, whispery glens
Science, invisible to ambitions
Her graceful wonder—hidden musician
Lost truth sprouting shoots on a wielding pen
 
Doubts pushed asunder, unveil naked eyes
For her heart is seed—germinating thrones
Her soul is queen—roots in rich soil baptized
Thus spurs enchantments—such a fragrant prize
Her mind born ignites—a stem of firestone
Pendulous petals bloom—thoughts colorized

My second try at a sonnet. I will leave this one for the reader's interpretation. Written July 14th, 2016.

Préféré par...
Autres oeuvres par J Ann Crowder...



Top