Of Reeds and Flowered Dreams
For some of us, the dream of love
is tender as a seed
which, sown in fertile hopeful minds,
grows common as a reed.
A stalwart grass, with no rare scent;
no fancy blooms to see;
no passion’s rose, it merely stands
with nothing grand to be.
It shelters me, this simple reed
that slightly bends in breeze.
But winds of lust I do not feel,
to bring me to my knees.
And taste of bliss I do not know;
I dream the fantasy,
for fertile minds can still create
a rose through poetry.
Strand Completely New(6),Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2020
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