The oohs and OH’s... of a winter rose
Shyly, the distilled November— light!
Exudes around; the blushing rose.
Till then her beauty is unduly, contrite!
Her virginal warmth; tingles, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
She’s more haunting than anybody, knows?
She ends each season unrequited.
In her pensive, star like milky throes…
That mercy blood makes hearts ignite.
So much so, her leafless, invite.
Trembles… inside with …Oohs
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
Leaves like golden; Leaflets frostbite-
Top-another has no partite.
That my soul would; disperse that lovely rite!
From the, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
Not even the thorny crown; does impose
Upon; the vision of her, clothes.
Such clear translucent splendor, oohs,
And OH’s …OH’s and Oohs …Oohs and OH’s…
…Here's my ode to a white winter rose.
poem by Mark Heathcote
Added by Poetry Lover
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