FLOWERS
My job is in the open air
And, Lord, I love the work I do
For flowers are my joy of life
Though their beauty belongs to you.
Your flowers are so lovely
Yet, I'm ugly, wrinkled and old.
I've lived beyond my mortal span
As the days I have left unfold.
Your lilies are my pride of life
And many of them there be.
They're worth a fortune, people say
Though money has little worth to me.
Their glory is my just reward
As their radiant heads they raise.
I dedicate them to you, oh Lord
With all my love and praise.
By Tom Zart
Tom Zart