Anemones by BRM


Anemones sit on Grandmother’s table

Their beauty, a joy to behold.

But no pastel pinks, no fragile flowers

Were placed in these vases, rimmed in gold. 

Instead sparkling scarlets and radiant reds

And passionate purples, brilliant and bold.

I wonder if she once sat here for hours

Charming her guest with tales to be told?

For she was so like these blossoms resplendent,

First flowers to bloom, yet never old.



The Art and Writing of Barbara Rizza Mellin