Primulas Poem by Adrian Flett

Primulas grace my garden
see me all winter through.
At winter's end, without pardon,
what do I do?
I mow them down, every one.
For they fade and all about,
my comfort through winter done,
spring is coming out.
Come autumn; unheralded they rise
each flower penetrated by
bee, insect and human eye.
As beauty fades -they're left to die.
If after such treatment they return,
what joy to greet them again
in another spring. I hope to earn
that right, if we both remain.