Poetry Blog by M.C. Newberry (Primrose)

Peeping from beneath the tree,

I heard the primrose speak to me.

Winter's done, I heard it say,

Warmer days are on their way.

Mother Nature waits on me

(The "First Rose" is my name, you see)

While other flowers lie abed,

I welcome Spring and show my head.

Then, with the golden daffodil,

I gild the countryside until

In turn the other blooms appear,

Assured...

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As Spring does its best to break through, here's a reminder of life renewed.

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Peeping from beneath the tree,

The lemon primrose spoke to me.

Winter's done, I heard it say,

Warmer days are on the way.

Mother Nature waits with glee,

The First Rose is my name, you see;

W...

Read and leave comments (5)

Peeping from beneath the tree,

The lemon primrose spoke to me.

Winter's done, I heard it say,

Warmer days are on their way.

Mother Nature waits on me

(The First Rose is my name you see)

While other flowers stay in bed,

I welcome spring and show my head.

Then, with the golden daffodil,

I gild the countryside until

In turn, the other blooms appe...

Read and leave comments (4)