The Flower
A Poem by Rowan Blair Colver
Bringing petal tips against the velvet of evening, like candle flicks that lightly glaze the air,
In stillness and enticement, some wonderful feeling of inner excitement, the flower opens.
Spilling pollen, aroma and life bringing colours, dusted with nectar and silk.
Alluring sensual milk of the fiery eye, behind half closed lid in pressure to absorb,
Sensations. It is silent, almost silent, apart from the heart that pounds inside,
And the movement of the dream that forms in bubbles and quilts around the very mind,
It comes. Like the fox from a burrow, with its whiskery nose and flash of red, allowing the presence
A Poem by Rowan Blair Colver
Bringing petal tips against the velvet of evening, like candle flicks that lightly glaze the air,
In stillness and enticement, some wonderful feeling of inner excitement, the flower opens.
Spilling pollen, aroma and life bringing colours, dusted with nectar and silk.
Alluring sensual milk of the fiery eye, behind half closed lid in pressure to absorb,
Sensations. It is silent, almost silent, apart from the heart that pounds inside,
And the movement of the dream that forms in bubbles and quilts around the very mind,
It comes. Like the fox from a burrow, with its whiskery nose and flash of red, allowing the presence
Of whatever awaits to greet its awareness from outside the confiding of safety
Courtesy of Rowan Blair Colver weebly page for more of this beauty check out this, and get weekly updates
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