The world is a rose garden
full of hues of fuchsia and coral,
of cream and ruby,
and we can do nothing but
stand in the midst of it,
letting it wrap us in its
painter’s palette
and confuse our senses.
A gust of magenta and emerald scent–
that sweet, earthy aroma–
breezes by
and we breathe in deep,
letting that petal-and-leaf air
color our lungs,
so that we may be
vibrant, too.
That wind whooshes
in sounds of
scarlet and sage and pearl,
its voice
loud and piercing and haunting,
lush and rich and deep,
light and tinkling and mellow,
calling us to stoop
and pluck one of the flowers
to gain a closer look.
We reach and grab one
and hold it near to us,
knowing that the stem
tastes of green bitterness,
of growth and newness and vitality
and of loam and apathy.
We know what the thorns feel like, too,
but just to test,
we press one firmly against our skin,
feel the crimson spilling from our wound,
and smile.
Photo by Adrianna Calvo from Pexels
This poem was inspired by/written for the theme of colors and senses for this week’s Thursday Poetry Competition at Penable!
The Yellow Brick Ave 
Beautiful!
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Thank you!
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You are welcome. I genuinely appreciate your way with words!
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Beautifully done Joy.
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Thanks so much, Nima! I really appreciate it!
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More than welcome Joy !!
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Joy, this is beautiful and just checked your gram…You’re looking absolutely stunning but couldn’t follow coz I’m not on it:)All the best
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Aww, thanks Madhuri! 💕
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Beautiful!!
I have a small request to make…please check out my blog when you have time!!❣😊😊
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Love your writing ✍ ❤
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Aww, thank you so much!
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