Sonnet for a Flower

Whilst walking in a meadow last weekend,
I found a flower of strange appearance.
Its stem delicate yet strong would not bend,
Growing in the middle of a clearance.
With misshapen leaves stripped in orange fur,
And prickly bells smiling up at the clouds.
I tried to pick it, impaled on a bur,
and was quite unaware of the mass crowds,
Big black cows watching me from a distance.
Curiouser they crept ever closer,
As fickle beasts I need no assistance,
In backing away no nonsense, no sir!
But alas the object of my desire,
Trampled and crushed a flower never more.

Digital Drawing

Digital Drawing

© Dawn Whitehand 2016


Prompt from – a sonnet

3 thoughts on “Sonnet for a Flower

  1. Your poem reminds me of one I wrote in 2014 called “So many fallen soldiers in my woods today.” The fragileness of life, even in a plant or weed, seemed to catch my thoughts. I’m not a poet in the true sense, but sometimes words just fall out that way. Love this.

    Liked by 1 person

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