Foraging through the firry forest
I came upon roses in the wild,
not the elusive morel I sought,
but roses, pink, mauve, cerise, and scarlet.
They raised their velvety, flushed heads
as if to encourage my caress.
Fragrance, so tantalizing, wafted
as I tenderly stroked their grandeur.
I sat awhile and marveled in them
before continuing on my studied way.
A delightful respite from my mark
that will remain within my memories –
extraordinary elegance
of the uncommon roses in the wild.
I'm in a crowded place.
Others brush my limbs.
We look so much the same,
I easily fit in.
No one knows my name.
I am one of them,
firry and firm with
a little junk in the trunk.
Wispy and thin,
I flow with the breeze.
I'm a little shady,
but stay if you please
as long as you'd like.
I've no teeth to bite.
If you come closer,
I won't walk away.
I've no legs to go.
I'm here every day.
The great outdoors
is where I sleep.
They're all I've known.
My roots are deep.
This crowded forest
is my home.
By: Juliet Ligon
Motif: Nature
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.