Hybrid rose
- Gypsy
- Dec 11, 2023
- 1 min read
Updated: Mar 11, 2024
"At it’s root, creativity is not about success and not about failure. It’s not about knowing why, or what, or even who. It’s a mystery, a spiritual place to live." ― Quoted from Clarissa Pinkola Estés, in her book: 'Women who Run with Wolves'
she was born a hybrid rose,
tender at the touch;
yet her stem was mighty strong,
with petals soft-hued,
& blush.
under starry skies,
she grew in silent haze,
waiting to be treasured,
her glowing, virgin skin.
leaves of silken blossom,
dropped with seasons change,
trails of floral fruit,
attracting courters' gaze.
folklore of divine,
bestowed his nose to fruit,
adoring her compose,
like a devout
who knows his flute.
she danced in midnight rain,
her flower beneath his breath,
awakening all senses,
with the rhythm of her flesh.
he whispers vows of worship,
ribcage filled with moan,
tongues in cosmic motion,
her hips squared on his on throne.
the balled of their passion,
brings her bud anew,
writing sacred scripts
all to be continued
...
~
