The Tree Poem by Marie Chapple

The Tree

Rating: 0.7


Winter's End

Cupped petals arched like athletes,
Hoping for Olympic Gold

Colours soft like periwinkle,
Spread graciously below

A hint of perfume lingers, lightly
In cultivated circles

Tomorrow, others will be by, applauding
As your blossoms soon Unfold.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success