The nightshade flower was speckled in the field,
Its crimson- red petals were outliined with the faintest line of ebony- black,
They were stooping down to bow to their lush – green stems,
The dagger like thorns on the stem pierced the petals.
The rose’s petals were blood – red,
It was as smooth and soft as silk,
It crumbled away at the lightest touch,
As though it was as britttle as glass.
The fir tree towered over me like a skyscraper,
It was a cold, porridge grey,
But it moved down to a chocolate – brown,
Up above, its bare branches stuck out like arms.
The snapdragon snapped its petals at me,
Their petal were a bright orange blinding me,
It was as delicate as flags,
And, as soft as a tiger’s fur.