Friday, April 23, 2010

A brewing poem I penned this morning.

Strolling by, they see the sights.
Everything's so beautiful here.
On one side the bursting petals
With singing color and fragrance so alive
Meet senses' capacity with delight.
And on the other, demure and waiting
Shrinking violets- they whisper quiet;
Soft, delicate, sweet, and shrunken.
Oh how cute- they make themselves so small.
I could pack so many in my pocket.
In my hand one fits so nicely, so tiny...
They say, strolling by, picking shrinking violets.
As the vibrant ones aside
Burst on and sing clear their song
Until others come along.
Forgetting their pockets, but knowing what they want-
Stepping forth to pick one
That needs only to fit within each's arms,
To be carried on to home.

-Miss Ashley Wutkee

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