We bloom
Like a Lily in March,
Not knowing the warm spell
Is a fluke.
So per usual,
Winter snaps back
And we become a memory.
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We bloom
Like a Lily in March,
Not knowing the warm spell
Is a fluke.
So per usual,
Winter snaps back
And we become a memory.
Among other things, J 
Then it warms up again, and we all get sick. The joys of living in the South.
I did not take that the way you probably meant it. And now I’m giggling.
How did you take it exactly?
I took “South” to be more of a euphemism that kept the poem going..
Oh but that flower never fades, Spring or Winter its always blooming ;)
Sigh…
Love this!!! :)
Thanks, love!
Very pretty!
Thanks! I’m so glad you’re sticking around and commenting, very encouraging :)
If I feel it, moves me in some way, inspiring, or touches me – you will get a comment.
That makes it even better :)
It’s like every word you handpicked, and carefully placed here. Loved this J.
And I LOVE this comment. Thank you!
You’re welcome :)
Beautiful words, dear!
Thanks, love!
You’re welcome!
The bloom may fade but if the plant really lived it will flourish by summer. ; )
A love with fickle seasons isn’t always worth gardening. Thanks for commenting :)
Well said ! You could not be more right ! ; )
No one really wants to take allergy shots for the rest of their life ;)
Very nice, so true
Thanks, I’m glad you liked it!
I loved this. It read sad to me but it’s beautiful
It is rather sad :/