Poetry for Flowers

[Vintage]

It was the stuff of pony tales. Ballroom attire and proper etiquette. A gigantic castle and royalty. A celebration of celebrations - the kinds in those old books that she loved so. She'd been so ecstatic with the architecture, the sculptures and decorations that she hadn't even noticed her hooves had meandered her right out into the courtyard. Only when the crisp evening air hit her did she seem to realize where she'd gotten herself to.

No matter, though! The whole place had her in high spirits, and the atmosphere made the wrong turn into a happy accident. Hungry though she was starting to get, she knew that she could wait it out just a bit longer to admire the courtyard and gardens. She would've loved to have taken a few flowers home to press, but she dared not touch royal property. As it was, it was breathtakingly exquisite, anyway.

The thought of how long those gardens had stood, how many years those flowers had bloomed, where the seeds had come from, and those seeds before them - the pony couldn't help but recite to herself. Running a gloved hoof delicately along the petals of a rose, soon to lean up and sniff. She loved autumn, but spring won out - if only for the sake of flowers.

"You love the roses - so do I. I wish

The sky would rain down roses, as they rain

From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?

Then all the valley would be pink and white

And soft to tread on. They would fall as light

As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be

Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!"

A smile tugged at her mouth gently as she strode along the cobblestone path. In no hurry at all was she, and enjoying the scenery for what it was!

[Ginger Mint]

hi hi

Ginger Mint hadn't imagined how big the castle grounds were. The castle had looked monumental from the outside but that grand visage turned out to be an understatement when viewed from the inside. She was lost and she knew it. Looking around for some signpost to help her find her way, she almost missed the first step out into the courtyard. This looks like a central destination, perhaps I can find my way from here.

She closed her eyes for a moment and listened to find the sounds of the crowd that might lead her back in the right direction. Over the murmur, she heard a clear voice and a thoughtful verse. She opened her eyes and looked around, but whoever was speaking had already moved along. The din of the party caught her attention though and she continued on, but as she brushed past a particularly striking rose bush, she started composing something of her own.

If I should close

against the cold

a dreamless sleep

share with me

perhaps a dream

of dawn revived