Dead flowers wither,
caught by a late freeze.
Only you, still delight the eye.
Enough for life,
and the long dark nights.
The pretty butterfly
and the big bee.
Until next year comes
Dead flowers wither,
caught by a late freeze.
Only you, still delight the eye.
Enough for life,
and the long dark nights.
The pretty butterfly
and the big bee.
A Wandering Poet 