Nicholas Bradvica Poetry

Upon the western wind I saw it sway,
With petals like a galleon unfurled,
And I could only stare because it twirled
Majestically in unrehearsed ballet;
And though it seems to be a mere cliché,
All this I thought about where I was curled,
There should not be such beauty in this world,
Nor should there be such heavy sights to weigh;
But there I lay until the long day's end,
When light must bow unto a new hour;
I yearned to grab the fragile lilac stem
And pluck for me this lone and sweet flower;
But I was overwhelmed by its power
And merely asked to stay a caring friend.

Poet: Nicholas Bradvica