Garden in decline - repose
the rose's rosing slows
(not so rosey I suppose)
tho -
A lonely leaf is falling
while the winter winds are calling
the sleep of autumn stalling,
beckoning us all
while-
The summer days recede
and the grasses go to seed
bleeding hearts will plead
with the night to slow it's speed,
but-
Melancholy creeping
for the sleepy sleeper, sleeping
neath` the tree of willow, weeping
so-
With approaching death
and the crisping of the breath
lies the beauty and the mirth and
the hope of springing birth.
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