Born to bloom then dieA Poem by GeeA seasons end, another's start , an old fellas view on both
One final cut, then mower stowed
the gardens borders tilled, winter blooms placed neat in rows 'neath air now damp and stilled. On terracotta throne the rose a queen without her crown, sits forlorn, stark, 'gainst watered light all petals withered, brown. A brazier, smoke skyward sent as summers last burns slow, beneath the boughs of leaf stripped trees readied now for coming snow. The garden bleak all colour shorn the gardener gave a sigh, " nature, man, have briefest lives both born to bloom, then die " © 2018 GeeAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorGeeMilton keynes, United KingdomAboutDevoted family man and lover of life. Simply written, easily understood "stuff" for those without code breaking skills. You will NEVER need Google to understand me:) more..Writing
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