We met in the wood
Where the wild flowers bud
And the ageing poet rhymes
Of his long lost springtime.
Buds turn to flowers
On the woodland path.
Our hours are finite
And pass into night.
-
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K Morris - Poet 
Reblogged this on NEW BLOG HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
Thanks for the kind share, Michael. Kevin
Time flowes. Beautiful, Kevin! Have a nice day! xx Michael
Thank you, Michael!