Three Crocuses: A Poem

Three crocuses slowly wither in the noonday sun,

Their brightest colours bleached and paled, their petals

Dry and dusty, browned leaves crinkle in the heat.

Two strangers are passing by;

Their eyes drift to this decaying scene, and one

Says to the other, look

At the flowers – aren’t they


2 thoughts on “Three Crocuses: A Poem

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