BW ( / Ann Arbor)

The Gallant Flower

The gallant flower stood with glee
Swaying in the wind it seemed so carefree.

Its petals broke off one by one,
Until the strong wind had won,

And though this flower was cold and bare,
Inside its head it had not a care.

For when next spring was to arrive,
Of its petals it would no longer be deprived.

So this once-great flower swaying in the wind,
Was silently inside beginning to grin.

Dreaming of a new day as the rain drops fell,
It started to sing, there in the dell.

Its sang of a bright crisp day,
When all of its troubles would go away.

Its song reached valleys far and wide,
Until its bewitching song began to subside.

The flower could no longer sing,
For it was wrong, it was dying.

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