Pink

pink potentilla beauty

 

Pink are her cheeks, in an August-moon glow,

Pink is the blush of her maidenly smile;

Daintily stepping, her pretty pink feet

Carry her many a pretty pink mile.

Sunset paints rainbows on eventide’s brow,

Staining her world in cathedral-pink hue;

Pink are the thoughts which she ponders the while

As powder-pink clouds wash her hair with pink dew.

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The Value of You

You’re no pin-up, that’s for sure.  Too pale, for one thing.

No uniformity.  A bit of an odd-ball shade, too.

The sun will wash you out within hours.

That fold is a bit non-conformist.

How will you compete with

Air-brushed standards?

How will you set

The value of

You?

You Dare to Bloom…

Daring and brave, this.

Do you feel the weight of your missing petals?

Symmetry has gone on an extended vacation;

Harmony of composition eludes you.

The buds nearby retain their superior potential

And snigger behind your back,

A symphony of clashing comments

All the louder for their implied silence.

What makes you bloom?

Yours is not a  lot to be fawned over,

Celebrated with a named star on a famous sidewalk,

Or heralded by brilliantly garish marquee lights.

And yet –

You dare to bloom…