Upon the Very Cusp of Spring
the sighting
of those
first few snowdrops ..
and that
single daffodil
this brand new year ..
felt like
the beginning of spring
and the making of a poem perhaps ..
- Author: Neville ( Offline)
- Published: March 26th, 2023 02:57
- Comment from author about the poem: a bit late in posting, but one sure hopes that the smile shines through ..🔆
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: Accidental Poet
Comments7
Ya can't beat a bit of cusping!
What am I on about. I dunno! lol.
Absolutely spot on Mr. O .. I dunno either but you are write about cusping 🐭👍
Would I swoon if I cusped? lol.
I always do ................................................... 🐭🐧🐭👍
You can't beat a good cusp..!
Anyone know Miss Cusp? Related to Miss (Sylla) Berles?! I'm talking rubbish now!
Am smiling with you dear poet as Spring births this verse to first cusp of bright unfold. Loved the read.........x
......................... thank you so much Fay .. x
The relief shines through...perhaps, just maybe, spring followed be summer will be......
let's bloomin hope so .. I'm a tad late with me pruning tho 🙂
Spring is so hopeful of new life, and the smile definitely smiles through. Thank you dear friend for these sweet words on such a beautiful Spring morn.
to be honest, I was having a lousy day until about 15 seconds ago .. being on call don't help .. but you most certainly did .. thanks Bella 💚
Nice one N - love shorties - they get to the point and don't waffle - now I'm beginning to sound like Orchi.
and I feel like swooning ..
our beloved blighty
sure is keeping us waiting this year, Hyung
is it still April showers
if it's been 'at it', since
sombre, November...
lol
'and that
single daffodil
this brand new year ..'
wonderfully subtle musicality
in your rhyming scheme
(I read and learn)
I am now spoilt n true sir brother Mek .. many thank you's accordingly dispatched & writefully so
The smile of Spring always shines through N. 😉
it does indeed .. and now you are spoiling me my friend, bless you .. N 🙂
A master poet doesn't spoil, like fine wine gets better with age. 😉
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