Too much cold. Hard. Numb.
Pain sweeps, invades; no one hears
The rare blossom cry.
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This entry was posted in Life and tagged defenses, flowers, grief, heart break, human condition, Loss, metaphors, nature, pain; cold., poetry, unspoken. Bookmark the permalink.
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OH! The picture is just beautiful.
And of course the poem is nice too. lol
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Glad you liked the picture.lady S. The colors in that bougainvillea are very rich.
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It really is a bit too much. The picture does take away from the poem a bit much.
I love it!!! 🙂
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We had an unexpected snow. Here it snows every 20 years or so. As beautiful as the snow is, it just kills the flowers that have hung on for so long. .. They freeze quietly.
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And the cry of the rare blossom is a poignant one
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Yes it is. It can break your heart or bring you to your knees.
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Or both
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But the flowers, like us, are resiliant and will come back.
Emm,
You have been nominated for an “Illuminating Blogger Award”. Please visit my site to copy and follow the instructions. You deserve this for your beautiful work.
Paul
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We miss you. Hope you will be shoveled out soon. Hugs!
xxx
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I am thawing…. Trying wordpress from my phone! Wonders never cease.
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Et toi, cherie, tu pleures aussi?
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Non pas aujourd’hui.
C’est jeudi, je souris.
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