Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
She is purple wisteria tangled in my hair Her scent, a crown upon my head. Like a honeybee Drawn to her sweet nectar, I hover nearby, My wings tracing slow circles through the air. The drowsy afternoon's silence, Thick with my attention, Drones on through dappled leaves. And still I hover, near branches heavy with sun soaked blossoms. Fragrant and beguiling, She beckons to me, Her sweetness lingers in the hushed air. A lilting breeze Sends me buzzing To the altar of her unfurling.
0
Dec 21, 2025
Dec 21, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
The Unfurling Hour
She is purple wisteria tangled in my hair Her scent, a crown upon my head. Like a honeybee Drawn to her sweet nectar, I hover nearby, My wings tracing slow circles through the air. The drowsy afternoon's silence, Thick with my attention, Drones on through dappled leaves. And still I hover, near branches heavy with sun soaked blossoms. Fragrant and beguiling, She beckons to me, Her sweetness lingers in the hushed air. A lilting breeze Sends me buzzing To the altar of her unfurling.
BruisedOrange
Written by
56/F/American
Dec 21, 2025
Dec 21, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem