The five metaphors I ended up coming up with were indian summer, day lily, crocus, first frost and ice cream. I ended up writing about a crocus.
The First Flower
A crocus
pushed its way through the ice
accumulated over months of bitter cold.
He appeared overnight,
a spot of vibrance in the endless white.
Maybe he always existed
under the snow,
and I failed to notice him
before he bloomed.
He was the first flower.
Unexpected. Beautiful.
Short lived.
By the time the insects began to chirp
he was gone.
Leaving behind only a clump of crinkled brown
to prove that he had existed.
Showing posts with label metaphor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label metaphor. Show all posts
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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