Deaths of Flowers

This poem reminds me of autumn...the death of all things flowering and green. The bleak promise that spring will come again soon. It's hard to believe, when everything is frost and barrenness, that spring will come again, but it will. It always does :)

Thanks to Alan for sharing this poem. Beautiful!

Deaths of Flowers
BY Edith Joy Scovell.

I would if I could choose
Age and die outwards as a tulip does;
Not as this iris drawing in, in-coiling
Its complex strange taut inflorescence, willing
Itself a bud again - though all achieved is
No more than a clenched sadness,

The tears of gum not flowing.
I would choose the tulips reckless way of going;
Whose petals answer light, altering by fractions
From closed to wide, from one through many perfections,
Til wreched, flamboyant, strayed beyond recall,
Like flakes of fire they piecemeal fall.