Oh flower you art the stone,
The petals of my home,
I sit and stare, within your lair,
And all my fears are gone.
You grow in other realms,
The morning sky so light,
The day a breeze, blows in the freeze,
Your mark of beauty sits.
Upon the stone, of life , of death,
You've made my heart anew.
My flower on the stone, my love for you is true.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 24th, 2025 05:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
Offline)
Comments1
A most interesting metaphor here. Well done
What did you think the metaphore is? Im curious to know.
I am a believer that each reader takes from a poem something personal. I can not tell you what you meant when your wrote it only what I took form it. The flower in a stone to me was distinct a piece of color that seemed floral yet calcified. To call it your home was to personalize it. A home is a place of residence where one feels safe and a stone is about as solid as it gets. More could be said but I think that is sufficient.
That is a great interpretation. Thank you again for your poetic wisdom. Lol
Most welcome
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