Flower Love

By
More by this author
as my old love, Jack, in the Pulpit,
preached to the Lilies of the Valley
our Tulips met behind the smoke
of the Weed the farmer was burning

we Rose in darkness
and our Morning Glory
was tinted with yellow light
as the Sun Flowered

bedecked in Queen Anne’s Lace
Black Eyed Susan followed me
down the aisle as maid of honor
and Blue Bells sang the wedding march

promise to Forget Me Not
and be not like that Dandy, Lion,
who, white in age,
lets the whims of the wind spread his seed

for now old jack has come home
his frosty fingers tickling the ground
Ever Green with jealousy he’ll take me away
to white winter where snow abounds





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback