The Twig Poem by Stephen Gregory
The Twig
Limp little plant, almost a bud
Simple petal, soft not bright
Will beauty live
Survive the night
Know summer storm
Feel nature's might
Take eyeless touches
A thousand sniff's
The desperate grasping
The one moist gift
From timeless depths
Dark theives seek light
In pseudo-ivory towers
Seeping stucco and tar
It grows
While glancing vapidly
At the reflection
Of a rose
By Stephen Lee Gregory
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/4/2024 4:09:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
