When Planting Flowers On My Grave Poem by David McLansky
When Planting Flowers On My Grave
Rating: ★3.5
How fragile is our love and labor,
It flickers like a wind-whipped flame;
How fast our wick does burn and taper,
Ending life in smoke-like fame;
Plant perennials here in my soil,
Knowing Fate's inconstancy;
That from my grave for all your toil
I'll over-grow your memory.
Sunday, March 30, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love
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4/26/2024 5:45:50 PM # 1.0.0.1119
How fast our wick does burn and taper, Ending life in smoke-like fame astounding imagery!