Now is but my finest hour,
as flowers spray,
Mine is that of scented roses,
wound round trellis in my garden,
such delight,
My years.
they are  just flowers in the sun,
loaded with seeds to multiply,

Mine,
are buddlea blooms on bushes,
bright blue,
enticing butterflies,
or dried lavender,
freshens costumes for work and play,
blouses of pure chiffon,
cotton and silk,

As age passes,
so,
so does my style,
Once was decadent and hectic,
now dressed with serenity,
I'm just,
Just still a hippie at heart.
(C) Livvi