Child bending over flowers:
a perfect picture of Pre-Lapsarian
innocence; the product of a painter’s
palette and a yearning for
the simplicities of life
before the long fall from grace.
Oh, child—you do not know,
nor should you, that you,
like the flowers, will fade
and lose your bloom.
Smell the blossoms while you can;
enjoy your short-lived honeymoon.
Bill Fitzsimons
This is a lovely poem Bill. True and so poignant, especially when you’re getting on a bit!
Thank you, Terry, for your kind comment.
Cheers,
Bill
Last line really nails it Bill. Thank you. Moira G
Thank you Moira. I’m pleased you like it.
Best wishes,
Bill