The blossoms on the vine were small and white only yesterday,
Now they’re morphing into rosy pink, so colorful and gay.
Little leaves have turned a deeper, subtler shade of green as well,
Or maybe they’ve simply grown a bit in size. I cannot tell.
The roots are in my neighbor’s yard, but the blossoms fall to mine.
This shared arrangement suits him keenly, and I like it just fine.
These fine fair flowers glisten bright with the morning dew and shine.
I wonder why pure angel white like snowfall they cannot stay—
Or pink, or white, until it fall, I’ll treasure each tiny bell,
And come back every morning to see the changes in the vine.
Copyright © 2018 Angela Umphers Rueger – All Rights Reserved
Cinq Trois DecaLa Rhyme — 10-line rhymed poem (decastich) written in one stanza
Every line has 15 syllables
Rhyme scheme: aabbcccabc