Sweet pink petals,
primrose nestled ‘midst greenery.
Worry not,
I shall not assail you.
I shall take you with me,
memorized, not plucked or bouqueted.
Summer breeze ruffles your fragility.
Nearby lilac’s scent floats round you
and your color seems to deepen.
Like a young woman’s blush
at her first lover’s caress.
Sweet pink petals,
what is it in you
that stirs me so?
Written for Open Link Night at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Photo taken today in the gardens that surround our building. These may not be roses, but they motivated this poem.
lillian the home poet 
This is the third poem today that includes lilacs.. (including mine) it has to be the season.
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Yep. There is nothing like the scent of a lilac! 🙂
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So far, Bjorn, Grace, and Kim have all written of flora; like minds writing in tandem it seems. I like that you “catch & release”, not picking the flower and shoving it in a vase.
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Glad you enjoyed, Glenn. Very late to the reading…I’ll be moseying over.
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Beautiful tribute to such a beauty as she.
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Thank you!
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You are welcome.
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a delightful tribute to nature’s beauty and the first blushes of love!
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So glad you enjoyed!
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I see flowers all around here. Yours are beautiful Lillian. I love their sweet pink petals and scent of lilacs.
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When we moved to Boston in ’97, right into the city, I was sad to leave our vegetable garden, the fireflies and all our perennial flowers in Iowa. So we looked for a building that had green around it….space to walk and flower beds. We were fortunately to find this building and, little did we know, how thankful we’d be to live directly across from Mass General Hospital as well! 🙂
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Good advice: “memorized, not plucked or bouqueted”
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Yes. We’re not allowed to pick the flowers on our common grounds here….thank goodness as they are then always here for us to enjoy.
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Those flowers are beautiful, I am so glad they will not be cut so all can enjoy their beauty.
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Me too! 🙂
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Gorgeous blossoms! Stir memories like a song does in ones mind! You never forget that first blush!
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Oh you are so right! 🙂
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kaykuala
Summer breeze ruffles your fragility.
Nearby lilac’s scent floats round you
and your color seems to deepen.
If one is to experience all these goodness of someone dear to one’s heart life certainly has lots to offer Lillian! Beautiful feel of a wonderful relationship!
Hank
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Thank you for this very nice comment! Truly appreciated, Hank!
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I like the way it’s like a conversation.
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Sometimes I find myself talking to myself in my poetry! 🙂
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Lovely poem!
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Thank you!
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I prefer to see flowers in their natural state, not in a vase, Lill. You evoked a rose garden and its scent with the lines:
‘Summer breeze ruffles your fragility.
Nearby lilac’s scent floats round you’.
I think it’s the natural beauty and innocence of flowers that stirs us – they have no guile or hidden agenda, they just are. The image is gorgeous. I’m looking out of the window and I can see pale pink roses intertwined with the honeysuckle on the trellis right outside my window, with lots more buds waiting to open.. My study smells wonderful at the moment.
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When we made the decision to move to Boston from our home in Iowa, I Knew I would miss the fireflies, our vegetable garden, and all the perennials I’d planted in our yard. So we looked for a building that had “green space and landscaping around it” – no small feat right in the heart of the city. We were so fortunate to be shown a unit in this building….we love it here. And we have our deck where I always have a few potted gereanium and impatiens in the summer….and of course, little did we know how grateful we’d be to live directly across the street from Mass General. Your yard sounds delightful!
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Such a lyrical delight
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Thank you!
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It’s so easy to see why those flowers inspire.
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They are truly beautiful….especially when the sun “catches” them in just the right light!
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Yes and yes.
This is slightly off topic , but one of my pet peeves is when people leave flowers at a memorial and leave the paper or plastic wrapped around them. Sometimes I fear we’re all sleep walking. So lovely to find you awake…
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So glad you enjoyed this, Christine.
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