Small Goddess of Delicate Flowers

It is raining lightly in the forest,
Little flowers begin to droop
In the fragile atmosphere
Of God’s sympathetic tears.

You pick the smallest ones
And hold them to your breast,
Then with your face angelic and wet,
Bring them into your room.

These grateful flowers
Smile for you;
Mystically, they carry my heart
And will not let you forget me.

Love is the tender sadness we both feel
When we are unable to kiss
But can only protect something gentle.

poem by Uriah Hamilton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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