Poet On The Hill
written by: LadyLily
@AFairymary
He sits,
upon a lush, green hillside
smothered in Bluebells.
Sad rain has drooped all petals,
now hanging cobalt-blue kisses.
Far beyond an ordinary wood,
with familiar faeries,
red glides of foxes follow
shallow impressions of a doll’s footprints,
trailed between forlorn firs.
A river of Alpines create
tapestries of form,
run rapidly, as Cowslips
dangle dainty, fragranced flowers.
Anemones…aristocrats of Spring,
sprinkle over mossed meadows.
He turns eastwards,
gazes waves of Tulips, white…
Banquet bloomed for his imagination.
Muse infinitely multiplies…
Staring, he transposes the vista
into a lake of ballet swans,
a reservoir of pure quartz,
a quivering sheet of shivering snow.
The poet smiles,
metaphors researched
in patchwork thoughts.
Weeping willows conjured,
leaves cast dappled shade
over creamed edges.
Ferns saturated in luscious green,
fountains of lime.
Creative friend, lover, and master,
within…
dwell on his deliverance,
storm- flushed tears spill.
In the same breathed air
a nightingale sings
to a sea of rippling white Tulips.
The poet sighs as
muted, orange- flushed,
mauve clouds drip
from indigo fading sky.
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