She stood for hours
Selling her flowers
By Grim towers.
Their scent
Was long since spent.
Their bloom
Was gone to soon.
But still some bought.
Sometimes she thought
Of the bee that does take
And then forsake
The budding rose
Then goes
On to devour
Another flower.
Hour after hour
She saw the power
Of beautiful flowers.
The bees their sweet nectar took
And she was struck
By how the rose does decay
And the bee will have his way.
The wood is dark.
The lark
Does not sing.
Will spring
Come once more
And restore
The sleeping rose?
Who knows
But one can grope
For hope
In the frozen ground
And pray for a change profound.
All this will cease.
Then eternal peace
Will forever flow
Washing away woe.
The sky slowly darkens.
He harkens
To birds.
No words.
Only the sun sinking
And him thinking
On time
And the divine.
A girl passing through the wood
For a moment stood
Under an ancient oak.
The tree spoke.
“I have seen kingdoms rise and fall
And my branches have decked many a bridal hall.
But kings and lovers are all now dead”.
She heard not the words said
For earplugs fed
Pop music into her head.
Taking a knife she carved, “Lucy loves Tom”
Then, without a backward glance, she was gone.
Oh my nameless one.
Graceful as a swan.
You are here then gone
And the river runs on.
I heard
A beautiful bird.
She sang of joy
To man and boy,
And nectar sweet
That I might eat.
She said, “I have flown high
And been lost in the great sky.
Come with me, you can be as I”.
I flew with her, but she did lie.
It is too soon
For the moon
To Rise.
The prize
Is for the taking.
The wolf is not yet waking
But come the gloom
his thirst he will be slaking.
Shall I compare thee to a prickly pear?
Thou art more fair
Than the wild rose
That in thorny profusion grows.
There the bee goes
Then stings my nose
what am I to do with you?
You came into the flat on my shoe.
Autumn is at an end.
Into the bin you must descend.
Green leaves must go
Before winter snow
Blankets the land
And trees stand,
Their branches bare
In the frost laden air.
K Morris - Poet 