Morning dewdrops trickling off
Their purple petals baby soft,
A lifting mist skews my view
As yawning roses rise to bloom.

Crisp coldness shakes my bones
Bar the little ones in my toes,
Slowly creeping numbness hinders
Inspiration from rigid fingers.

Teasing raindrops falling hazy
Suddenly feeling a little cagey,
Wet toes, wet clothes, getting sad
Vacating a field as gorgeous as that.

Weather permitting I shall return
Preferably later and in the Sun
Capturing the roses in words of mine
In a poem void of imperfect rhyme.

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...