Blossoms In The Dust Poem by William M. Wismer

In Spring I see the blossoms there lying in the dust.
Tis sad but it's a phase of things like iron turned to rust.
We cannot change the plan of life which nature has ordained.
There are unchanging happenings, immutably ingrained.

When I see blossoms in the dust, I think of jaded lives
Of men who've vied for fortune that never quite arrives.
Most men are left disgruntled with what the fates bestow.
And grimly wait for dusty death as trudging on they go.

Blossoms in the dust I see - beauty so forlorn.
There comes a time in people's lives when beauty seems well-worn
Beauty comes and beauty goes like fame and life it's fleeting.
Blossoms mingle with the dust but all is in God's keeping.