It was in the mist of
The morning
Out of a deeper set fog
Clinging almost to
The grassy blades
Dew tipped and glistening
That first, i made
Notice of you~
~*~
The garden with it's
Fragrant blooms
Gently embrace the
Circumferance of your face
Carried away by a hint
Of breeze
The stillness winning, though
~*~
Your scent permeates
My air
A brief break in the fog
Allows for a glimpse
Allows the sun
It's proper place
In the sky
And there you are
Still...
Sweet as the first
Red Rose of Spring
By, Theodora Onken
January 19,2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem