And now I remember the blossom on trees.

The petals that fell like our childish whisphers,

I remember the fear of running late.

Running last.

And when I see blossom now,

I touch it,

Hold it

and wonder why I am crying.

Snow ►


Nicola Beckett

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Sun 4th Apr 2010 13:37

Thanks for your time and comments. This poem is meant to create an image, the image represents the fear of structured education and the loss of innocence. The blossom represents creativity and how we retain our child-like innocence through the process of creation. xx

Janet Ramsden

Wed 3rd Feb 2010 21:24

So simple the images and yet so beautifully presented. Lovely poem.



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Wed 3rd Feb 2010 17:50

another very evocative poem - great !

andy n

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Wed 3rd Feb 2010 08:19

one of my favs off your, Nicola.. Love it! x

Ann Foxglove

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Tue 2nd Feb 2010 19:07

A delicate touch here. Sad and gentle.

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