Poems, poets, poetry, writing, poetry challenge's
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The light that was low, cool
Edge of butter white
Grows a burned orange frame;
Like a greedy flame
Burning a hole in virgin silk.
“Sin, sin, sin!”
Cries the sunset violin.
Purple warriors, with wood,
Wire and song
Answer the call of the
Bronze crocus bell.
awakening thrill!
really liked this…
Very lovely! 
Very nice poem.
Hello to one and all and many thanks for your positive comments, which are greatly appreciated.
Alongside which a big thanks to Harry for giving us this platform.
Thank you Paul.
Spring is coming !!!
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