just let her
in shades of pink
born of maturity
a gift, rooted deep
simple offerings
puddles of water her drink
sun kissed
displayed, considered a weed
country worn
she, rarely what you think
just let her
in shades of pink
born of maturity
a gift, rooted deep
simple offerings
puddles of water her drink
sun kissed
displayed, considered a weed
country worn
she, rarely what you think
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 
Loved the image 😄
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Awesome!
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You need to publish a book on your flower poems. Do it.
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That’s a lot of flower poems, Sir. You humble me. Thank you…
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I would do the four seasons.. 4 sections with 13 poems each giving a total of 52… include your photos as well
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You have no idea how honored I am… that you’ve thought about this at all, and then offered me your advice, makes me feel alive. A gift is what you are, Sir.
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Always, the delight of a surprise, Red.
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You continue to honor me, Chum. So nice to see your familiar face here.
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PERENNIAL
Keeps her secrets
Within her silence
I too, passing her
Day after day
A gladsome addition
To my daily constitutional
Grateful to the wind
That blew her seed here
A gradual paling
Day after day
Petals crinkle, fall
Her secrets die with her
I shall mourn her absence
Patiently await next Summer
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Forever Love…sigh. There’s something mysterious about longing from afar, as well. I adore the image of such, Ben. Your poem is touching and full of feeling I like to running through me. You’ve honored me with your poem here. Nature…what a muse.
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A paean to a group of pink poppies who live beside some steps where I walk every day. The picture you chose to post here made me think of them and hence … 🙂
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I find it wonderful you thought of them which created your poem, all because if something simple I wrote. Poets make me smile so big…
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One could almost imagine everything to be interrelated. 🙂
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One should believe it, I think…right?
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Yes. One might even believe that they know it to be so. 🙂
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Indeed 🙂
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Far too beautiful to be thought a weed! the plant, or the poetress 😉
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I think there is someone for everyone, weed or flower. Thank you, my friend. ♡
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I entirely agree 😉
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😉 I know you do
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What in the world is this beauty?? Such a delicate color, such dainty veining! Lovely capture, Audrey, and beautiful poem, too.
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She’s a hollyhock, Debbie. Sits on the corner of my backyard. She’s often blooming. Thank you, Debbie. 🙂
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Don’t recall ever seeing one outside of pictures — thanks for educating me!
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They are most pretty when they’re in a bunch. You’re welcome, of course.
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Is this exquisite damsel a hollyhock? Who dares call her a weed? Certainly not the poet who senses her gentle depth.
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Yes, Ma’am she is a hollyhock. There’s a bit of use about her, but she’s a beauty. I see her and adore where she’s been. ♡
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This is a gem, Audrey – your gentle words and a gorgeous photo once again. (I always side with so-called weeds….they’re often more exquisite than a rose as you have demonstrated. 💕🥀 )
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I couldn’t agree more, Betty. Those wild weeds with blossoms intricate and sometimes so tiny, well they steal my heart, too. Thank you for seeing beauty. ♡
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Lovely!
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Thank you, Penny. Nice to see you here.
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Very pretty, words and photo
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Thank you, Dan. I appreciate you stopping by and saying so.
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Awesomely vivid, gorgeously written and what a picture!
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Candice, you are welcome any time, and not just because you spoil me with your sugared words. Thank you, Lovely
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Terrific
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Thanks, Butch
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This is beautiful, words and photo! 🙂
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Oh, Ms. H, I thank you ♡
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