Her name was Rose Like the flower, A wild and rambling girl. Softest pink, her pale skin, Hair of tangled nature, She bloomed for us all; How she bloomed. But winter came With nipping chill; Our Rose did fade away, Retreated behind prickly demeanour Within a bricked vase. A gardener has her now: Pruned.

Pruning By Night

Peel back the petals Tenderest care Stroke off the dew So fragile, beware Shy from the sunlight Darkness, such bliss And all the result Of one fragrant kiss When will the dawn rise Nobody knows Until then, my friends I’m pruning, dear Rose

Glowing Through the Rain

 Delicate like a flower Slipping out of cracks Waiting for the rain clouds To splash upon your back  That feeling of becoming As concrete splits in twain Unable to constrain you Before the pouring rain  So stretch your roots in glory To link beneath the earth And wait for sun to light you Then glow for all your worth       


  Can a single, delicate petal help improve a view?  Perhaps, a whole flower?  In a world of shades even a little bit of colour;  A flash of real life;  The promise of something better,  Can change the landscape.  We should all be allowed to BLOOM.


  I found you Hanging Suspended  Adrift in a world of your own Inanimate Yet more alive than anything I’d ever seen Such delicate beauty Petals to rival a snowflake  And I wondered Should you be there the next time I visited Or fallen to the floor  The fate you had somehow cheated Like you My thoughts lay Suspended