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Moon-kissed and pure, like an angel of yore,
Fragile and shy, radiant evermore.
Nimble and pale, dances in rain,
A silent heart, overflows with pain.
A longing sigh, a beaming smile,
A glorious form, lovely and fertile.
Warm tears, full of emotional evenness,
Forever optimistic, carries no evilness.
Never loses its worth, like precious paraphernalia,
A wonderful soul – the Alba Magna Azalea.
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The Forgotten Language of Flowers
PoetryFlowers are gentle beings. They whisper tales as old as time. But with the passage of father time, the inhabitants of mother earth have forgotten all about their tales. Now, it is but a forgotten language. Let us explore the secrets of the blossoms...
