First Love Poem by David Wood
First Love
A beautiful rose,
Washed by the
Morning dew,
Waits patiently
In the early
Dawn.
A bashful bee, with
Youthful kIsses,
Reaches out
And
Softly collects the
Nectar from
Her chamber,
Then
Pollinates
With love,
Buzzing
With
Delight.
What a precious and soft delight this poem is! If I said anymore, I would spoil the delicate and enchanting effect its essence gives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 4:43:09 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I bet Tina is smiling right now Bravo!