Winter Blossom

In the whitest winter snow,
on the darkest withered branch,
there grew,
a blossom as red as blood.

I paused and held my breath,
to behold this sight,
a miracle,
in the land of black and white.

With gentle loving hands,
I reached out to touch,
my fingers,
to the satin petals light.

On the whitest winter snow,
a blossom as red as blood,
dead at my touch,
lost forever to the night.

Published by Yaku Potgieter

Live Simply

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