Thursday, 14 June 2012

Rose Thorns

Wood hold on to me
As rose thorns tare me
Lovely are the smells
That lingers in the air

Orange and red
Throwing off such wonders
You give something to the butterflies and birds
Magic is your vines
That wrap around like silky twines

Fields of green
Coming across yellow broken wet streams
Stepping stones
Shaped like ice cream cones

Dripping over like tiny waterfalls
Tiny twigs break away down between
Hidden away in the back
Is a cottage

No one knows
It even exist
Much to the travelling mans hand
It has kept it secret right
To stay untouched from harm

As nettles blow out purple blooms
As dandelions throw off white cotton fumes
Buttercups dancing along the side
Daisy chains between them say

Look over there
Cover of the whistling grass
Poppies not far away
Sloes crop the trees
Gooseberries not wanting to be eaten today

Dates hang on trees
Above the flowing streams
Jumping minnow escaping
The tightness of the rocks squeeze
So as the smells of now
Click clearly in your mind
Remember all that’s around
That’s familiar as your guide

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