Petals like thirty pieces of silver;
stamens the colour of
crushed feelings
and leaves gloss green,
reflecting the sunlight
like monster eyes in that garden.
It took the place of the apple tree.
Its fruit:
scarlet hips
full of syrup sweet goodness
and cruel white fluff
tipped with barbs to make you choke.
3 comments:
I love this. I love the picture of Arty Daughter, too; but this is wonderful.
Thank-you. I was just trying to put enough together for a competition.
Beautiful prose. You have talent.
Here from Michele
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