Tomorrow's Flowers
Across the Sprawl of wistful Fall
Through capricious Skies of broken Lies
Naive sweets leave tongues of the young
As the last leaf of summer dies
To Escape the Scrape of leather feathers
And Trim the Rim from fallow snows
Tomorrow's Flowers count the Hours
In the Bleak Mystique of departing crows
Where the cold unfolds Tracks of wolf Packs
The remains of rain Returns the Ferns
Despite the Spite of cynic's delight
The wheel of days tenaciously turns
When a green dream Soars through golden Doors
Each Sunset will Reset a pristine dawn
As Tender as April's fragile Splendor
Hope Stands as Grand as a fresh-eyed fawn.
11/15/20
In Rhymes Sublime contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Copyright © Michelle Faulkner | Year Posted 2020
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