Winter for a Flower

By
The wind grows colder and colder by day,
There is no one here to shield me,
I will soon fade away,
From my Earthly form I will be free.

The cold will cause me to wither,
There really is no escape,
I hear the heavens call “Come hither,”
To survive means a mutated shape.

My ancestors face this every year,
Only some of them could stay alive,
I’m not strong enough, I fear,
I am only a flower with a will to survive.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback