Little flowers outside my window grow.
Shades of fushia and violet, in the warm year they flourish.
Through autumn's heavy breeze they remain,
and in the end bow to winter's frost.
Little flowers, I shall see them again in verdant spring.
Though time and season change, they always come back to me.
dont you just love the decor of little flowers in spring and autumn?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's always nice to see something live its season and then return. The cycle of nature endures, when all else fails. Lovely write. LW