The wild native grasses
have thrown their seeds and died
in mother nature’s garden
where they gladly step aside
for a golden arch of new life,
along the countless greening spear,
with a slight hint of chocolate
for the ending of the year.
Summer turns all golden
with the leaving of the spring,
reviving buds are bursting
with a wont to bring
the mauvest stars for Christmas
in the hot sun to appear,
with a slight hint of chocolate
for the ending of the year.
‘Tis now time for reflection
and remembering a birth.
For growing of a young life;
some returning to the earth.
So another year is ending
where a diary closes here,
with a slight hint of chocolate
for the ending of a year.
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