Begonia delight; oh what a sight!
A blaze of blooms in softest light.
As morning spills her silver dew,
The dreaming garden wakes in you.
From folds of crimson, rose, and gold,
A quiet tale is gently told.
Each petal, touched by breeze and sun,
Speaks of the day that’s just begun.
The blackbird pauses in his song,
The bees hum low as they belong.
A butterfly on painted wing
Makes silence seem a living thing.
No boastful call, no need for fame,
Yet gardens whisper just your name.
Where sun and shadow softly meet,
The earth grows gentler at your feet.
When twilight wraps the fading sky
And swallows homeward wheel and fly,
Your colours hold the evening’s glow,
Like embers burning far below.
So bloom until the autumn rain
Has sung its soft and sweet refrain.
Begonia delight; oh what a sight!
A little flame against the night.
Disclaimer: poem with AI-assist. Every garden should have it!
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Good to see you again!
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You too, a chara! So near and yet so far.
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My comment was written without AI assistance.
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Maith fear, Paddy. In fairness, it looks genuinely like something you’d come up with!
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