PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I am hidden in the dew

that lays on the delicate mauve tips

of the roses in the English garden.



I hide in the fragrant earl Grey

that is sipped

from Grandma’s tea set

on the terrace above.



I hide in the bold colorful strokes

of the artist’s brush

in the Prussian blue sky

of his landscape.



I hide in the shadowy sinister words

of the dark poem

written in my blood.



How long will I hide?



Till the answer

is  revealed.