The Bluish Flower Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The bluish flower of the heavens sky
Where raindrops fall from eyelids to the yirth,
And mortal men give to all mortal birth
And each of them will later surly die;
For life is here to grow and then say goodbye
All what is done is like the wind in worth,
It awakes in clouds far from home and mirth
Like stars in night that can not speak but cry.

Why is this so when honey from flowers drips?
And gold and diamonds you can surly find,
And be of all your success very proud;
Still there now death you will kiss with you lips
And walk the street of life so very blind,
And shout where you don't need to be aloud.