Flowers

Flowers

The air is thick and pungent
in a breeze that's soft and warm
the smell of sweetest Lilacs
drifting in before the storm.

The Roses in my garden die
but they always are reborn.
There's beauty in the petals
for this flower with a thorn.

The Daffodils reach to the sky
in the early summer morn.
A gentle sun will smile on them
through the lattice they adorn.

Rain is dripping from my eaves,
and kiss the flowers lightly.
It lends new lustre to the leaves
then paints them all so brightly.

A wooden post that holds my roof
is a home to climbing vines.
They wrap themselves around it,
as the wind stirs through the pines.

Retreating is the cool of night,
sunrise brings another day
as fleeting summers hurry past
and never seem to stay.

Violets are my favorite flowers
I love them as they are.
Shedding light on darkest hours,
such lovely purple star.

These sights and smells are mine to keep
I've no reason to recant.
The fact remains, I now know why
I love my flowers and my plants.

© Copyright 2006 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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