Primrose Flower






I am hooked on this picture,



Merely of a flower,



Nothing special or petite,




Nothing quite so intricate,

Or sweet, No no,




Only a picture of,





A Primrose yellow,



Vivacious and callow,


Filled with life and vitality,


Life and the Primrose flower,


Compares me to a lulling song,


Quaintly restoring my heart,


To feel free from hurt,


Or Woe or pain or dismay,


Or tragedy or fear of anything,


Everything is left to be a fight,



Not violent or aggressive,


But passionate and slight,


Like the Primrose flower,


Sits untainted and small,


Enough to fit in my palm,


In my memory uplifting and tall,


Like a cherished love,


A small babe,


Or a lil bird,


A thrush or dove,


The flower battles,


Wind, rain and storms,



Fending off enemies,



At natures inquest,


My heart becomes a torrent,


Exchanging my interest,


In the Primrose flower.



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