Fire and Ice

As dawn sets fire to the rolling hills,

she awakens with a slow yawn.

She lifts her head to the rising sun -

its rays warm upon her delicate skin.

So fragile, her innocent beauty.

Her petals dew kissed, as though by a lover,

glimmer like a thousand tiny diamonds, and

dance a ballet with the gentle breeze.

Her delicate blossoms gracefully unfold,

casting an aromatic elixir upon the air.

Bees lazily sway - drunk from her nectar.

With the coming of dusk, her head slowly bows,

she grows thin as she weeps.

Her petals float upon the wind, dancing along

those rolling hills; all that she is, slowly drifting out of sight.

Author's Note

I'd appreciate any feedback that you feel you'd like to give. Thanks for reading. :)

Reviews

[Creepy Swine Guy]

Absolutely stunning. You really took a chisel to this and sculpted a masterpiece. Not a word out of place.

[Samuel Dickens]

You have a kind of economy with words that I find very appealing. Without overstating, you paint a vivid picture of finest beauty which sooth the senses. A very wonderful write, my friend.