The Tulips
The tulips
with their pink petticoats
come waltzing in the sun.
Frilly and bright
with a great delight,
like sprinkles and fairies,
touch our hands and hold (tight),
As we wander to the corner,
to grab milk from the dairy,
Tremors, through the spring breezes,
the petals fall one by one.
While cousin bluebells, and marigolds just peaking,
Stand Striking, with no shortage of being told,
Expectations to be met,
and not won, a means to an end,
And then next season,
we go on and on again.












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