She sells flowers in little bunches,
Sweet fragrances that please,
Delicate sepals of life,
That softly speak.
Bouquets of living colours,
Petals of inspiration,
Roses, chrysanthemums,
Daisies, carnations.
Accent blossoms, gerberas,
Lilies smiling in myriad hues,
Sunflowers a darling yellow,
Vibrant orchids in splendour blue.
With her touch, beauty breathes,
Glorious blossoms thrive,
Delicately arranged,
Floral expressions come alive.
For new love that slowly blooms,
For confessions yet to be said,
The finest of her finest,
She ribbons roses dark rich red.
Fond good health thoughts,
Through florals expressed,
She’ll wrap with gentle care,
With love’s tenderness impress.
She’ll weave wreathes and garlands,
Blends of wistful white, blues, pinks,
For memories left behind,
Now distant imprints.
In sweet scents, she colours days, months, years,
Walks alone each night when she is done,
Back home, no florid fragrance fills her senses,
To colour her world there is no one.
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 12:17 PM UTC
She sells flowers in little bunches,
Sweet fragrances that please,
Delicate sepals of life,
That softly speak.
Bouquets of living colours,
Petals of inspiration,
Roses, chrysanthemums,
Daisies, carnations.
Accent blossoms, gerberas,
Lilies smiling in myriad hues,
Sunflowers a darling yellow,
Vibrant orchids in splendour blue.
With her touch, beauty breathes,
Glorious blossoms thrive,
Delicately arranged,
Floral expressions come alive.
For new love that slowly blooms,
For confessions yet to be said,
The finest of her finest,
She ribbons roses dark rich red.
Fond good health thoughts,
Through florals expressed,
She’ll wrap with gentle care,
With love’s tenderness impress.
She’ll weave wreathes and garlands,
Blends of wistful white, blues, pinks,
For memories left behind,
Now distant imprints.
In sweet scents, she colours days, months, years,
Walks alone each night when she is done,
Back home, no florid fragrance fills her senses,
To colour her world there is no one.
Written in 2012 - all old poems
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