When All That Flowers In Truth Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

Nightshade, bittersweet beyond concealing,
Knows waning beauty is better if not found,
And violets like to tears must face revealing
Heartsease is rare - false hopes abound.

Forget-me-not the sorrow of the gathering in:
No balm in Gilead - no laurels crowned -
No respite for the rose, no special pleading!

Move along - nothing to see - love-lies-bleeding!
The vacant land stands stark, the tares abound -
With what is left to straw and dust succeeding
When all that flowers in truth is cut to ground.