March 21st, 2009 by Linda Jenkinson
In your hands a piece of burlap
Brown and plain -
Useful all the same.
You stretch out the wrinkles,
Brush off the dust
The cloth lies before you in absolute trust
Your needle works quickly.
A garland of thread
Textures the fabric in deep shades of red.
Now the brown foundling
Shimmers like gold.
As intricate petals begin to unfold.
From barren to blossom,
In a rainbow of hue
A rose has awakened
Created by you.
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September 25th, 2007 by Linda Jenkinson
- The rose which bloomed just yesterday
- Conceals the seed of its decay.
- Whose grasping fingers creep and reach
- Until each petal has been breached.
- Sepal by sepal the bloom will fall,
- ‘Til nothing remains of the rose at all.
- Now, understanding, I can see
- That I am what was meant to be.
- Knowing this, I finally find
- The path that leaves the past behind.
- Even as the blossom wanes
- I set my eyes ahead again.
- Though I may bloom imperfectly
- I still may bloom resplendently.
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