Wildflowers
And when the flowers die,
Leaving empty space in air
That once their perfume filled.
When colour,
Vital as life itself,
Departs my eyes for good,
My thoughts return to hedgerows.
Wandering fields from whence love began,
And I will hold your hand, even in death.
Robert Mann
Fri 19th Jan 2018 11:04
Martin - Glad that you like it mate. Thanks for saying so.
Rob