by Bella Bunny
Our lives are much like the lives of flowers. What happens when Winter comes?
|Flowers of Life ...
I plant my seeds in early Spring.
I tend them well; I give them love.
I give them water, pull the weeds,
And they get sunlight from above.
The seeds then sprout, grow through the soil.
The tiny plants reach for the sky.
Leaves start to form, then buds appear.
There will be flowers, by and by.
When Summer comes, the flowers bloom.
Their joyous colors make me smile.
I feel my efforts werenât in vain.
Their beauty makes it all worthwhile.
When Autumnâs chill is in the air,
My flowers are on âborrowed timeâ.
It wonât be long âtill they succumb.
They now have lived beyond their prime.
With Winterâs cold and frosty air,
The beauty fades; my flowers die.
I pause and think about their fate.
A life so short; I wonder why.
Then I see lifeâs comparison
With buds, then flowers; youth, then death.
As they have died from Winterâs frost,
I, too, face Winterâs icy breath.
Seedling, blossom, childhood, maiden,
A flowerâs life goes by so fast.
But one day, I too, shall be gone.
Like flowers, we arenât meant to last.
Rhyme pattern: a-b-c-b
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