The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here
Sylvia Plath ~ Tulips
bulbs lit by the molten core
not the cold coming predicated by a February
and so they push up inquisitively after the daffs
those narcissistic beacons bred to spread resplendence
all mudded now and fallen like soldiers on the Somme
it's enough to make the tulips keep their turbans
below the parapet until the shrill whistle of the wren
signals a restlessness for Spring
in the plain glass tulip vase, five red blooms contort
out of flat tongued leaves they worm their way
to the wintry light, ruddy as the martyred Valentine
Sherry’s poetry prompt ~ Piggyback Poems
PoetryPix 