Blue Daisy
It's not real, the colors that unfold.
Daisies are white or yellow, I've been told.
Pictures are deceiving
falsifying the colors I am perceiving.
It's in the shading and the hues
that my heart senses all the blues.
It's in the moments that the daisy blooms
and sunlight glows upon each petaled plumes,
Now fading, the opened falling blossom
dispersed by creations wonders, how awesome.
For Mystic Rose's Blue Daisy.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
