POETRY: Poinsettia by Danny P. Barbare  

Posted by Scott Wilson


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.

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 26, 2011 at 1:15 AM . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


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