Flower Song
Oh, where do tender flowers sing?
When do we hear flushed petals strum?
Soft on the breeze, blooms sweetly hum.
Their melodies begin in spring.
I walk through meadows delicate.
The flowers’ song a symphony;
no sound of death’s cacophony.
In beauty, earth and sky beget.
The season’s sounds, a pleasure heard,
each flight of buzzing bumble bee,
each butterfly fluttering free,
Spring’s lyrics sung without a word.
With every flower blooming wild,
lovers dance silently beguiled.
*For Rick's Flower Song Contest, 2/15/15
Form - enclosed rhyme, ending in a couplet
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
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