Poetry: Flower

Flower

The river of Gold turns to River of Scarlet
I lay in pain on the grass
Though stones of this struggle be round or sharp
They will pass I know
But as I lay in pain on the grass
I spy a flower
A simple flower white like a daisy
With a simple yellow centre
And near it a ladybug
I see a butterfly flutter overhead
I lay in pain on the grass
The pain is still there.
But I know it will pass
But the beauty
Now a flower
Now a beetle
Now a butterfly
Will always remain
I will forget the pain

DWP 10 July 2008.

83.