The Roses Bloom Of Winter
Roses with a seasonal purpose
Upon the darkness comes a carpet of night,
Soon awoken by a shimmer fair and bright.
With but a twinkle I saw its first breath,
Opening such subtle lips as cold as death.
A chill creeps within as this purse opens wide,
Revealing a rose with no reason to hide.
Alas, I have never witnessed such a grand presentation,
All I can say is this sight holds magnificent self-elation.
Upon the moons smile doth this flower begin to weep,
Nary a soul can foretell where its root burrow so deep.
Gone for a time till the moon hides its face,
For darkness alone holds the secret to this mystifying grace.
About the Creator
Toby Heward
Creativity is boundless. We are gardeners that bring forth these fruits of wonder. Nature is my passion and I love to help readers see the stories with their own eyes through my works. Whether its poems, fact, or fiction I bring it to life.
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The Harvest
Koyi wobbled to her shabby wood and straw kaz, holding her machete and an old burlap bag with some yams. Someone had laid another basket in front of the patched up door—rose apples today. They were a bright reddish pink, looking waxy and crisp, just the way she liked them. The culprit knew her very well. Those would be crunchy, juicy and sweet—she could tell—but she gathered all the will she could muster and pushed the basket aside to enter her home. She had already said no repeatedly and would not be taking bribes.
By Lily Séjor2 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Love it! Best!
Lovely, and what a picture!