Her alibi is iron-clad –
Time is standing still;
Heart has fallen like the leaves,
Swallowing the will.
She didn’t mean to lose herself,
Get taken at the flood;
He swept her off her willing feet
When Love began to bud.
So unexpected, this beauty.
My eyes looked past and through you,
Seeking the spectacular vernacular,
The oohs and aaahs of those who wring out the spotlight
And demand observance.
But you in your chore clothes,
Springing from a sour work-horse womb,
Peel away the cataracts of preconceived notions
And leave me breathless…
The photo depicts rhubarb in bloom. In all the years I have been gardening, I must say I have never really noticed, to my shame, the beauty in it. The blossoms grow on stems which are useless and must be removed to ensure that the plant doesn’t think its job of propogating itself is done, thus slowing down the growth of the blood red stems which are the real prize. How much beauty have I missed with my blinkers on? Ah, for eyes that are truly open…