Circumvolve
Again They Die
Yet another year passes
by, and the flowers die
again . . . again . . . again they die!
Cold rain cries cold color from their eyes
And again . . . again . . . again they die!
The land: white. Lifeless.
A few cardinals
feasting
on dead roses.
Striking red poses against a snowy backdrop.
And again . . . again . . . again they die.
Yet another year passes
by, and the flowers die
again . . . again . . . again they die!
Cold rain cries cold color from their eyes
And again . . . again . . . again they die!
The land: white. Lifeless.
A few cardinals
feasting
on dead roses.
Striking red poses against a snowy backdrop.
And again . . . again . . . again they die.
Labels: Again They Die, Circumvolve, poetry
posted by Sir James Eric Watkins at 8:45 PM
2 Comments:
But they always come back.
All manner of good fortune to you and your family James, in the coming year!
xx
So True.
The optimist: you.
Seeing clearly.
Post a Comment
<< Home