David A. Forrester writes:
"I have been writing poetry since I was 13 (I am
59 years old). I have received an A.S. degree in Science, a B.S.M.E.,
and an MBA."
Miniature Roses
Subtle raindrops falling, tender on my bed
In open air as sleepy eyes awake
Fragrance of a dozen kinds, drift about my head
As the dawning of the day begins to break
Pinkish blues of fragile sky, rise above the trees
The softest slowest movement starts to sweep
Dainty leaves and blades of grass, caught in tiny breeze
The garden ‘round my bed unfolds from sleep
The glitter of the rising sun, waivers through the wood
The wandering light crawls gently down the slope
The meaning of the morning lies, oft misunderstood
As misguided and mistaken words of hope
But yet the beauty overwhelms, sets me up on edge
A day of perfect ecstasy throughout
The bliss of innocence ensues
Displays the panoramic views
Life is all that life is all about
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