Saturday, March 26, 2011

POETRY: Poinsettia by Danny P. Barbare


Poinsettia



When the flowers fade to black

Like the poinsettia

Leaves, crumpled and

Withered and brittle, like all

They will be swept away, as like

The inevitable old age, from

Flaming youth to blackened

Ash, only you and I and

That seed, heart of love will last.





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