Before his time
Like deadheaded flowers
Dry and brittle
Seeds blown in a wind
Death grasped his hand
And led him from my garden
Like the brittle petals
That blows so easily away
He was too brief and could not stay
So blow, blow in the bitter wind
I'll catch your dry seeds
And plant them
Then our garden will grow again one day
Spring up, spring up
You lovely flowers
Curl and climb, you green ivies
Then our garden will grow again
Nov 29, 2025
Nov 29, 2025 at 4:39 PM UTC
Before his time
Like deadheaded flowers
Dry and brittle
Seeds blown in a wind
Death grasped his hand
And led him from my garden
Like the brittle petals
That blows so easily away
He was too brief and could not stay
So blow, blow in the bitter wind
I'll catch your dry seeds
And plant them
Then our garden will grow again one day
Spring up, spring up
You lovely flowers
Curl and climb, you green ivies
Then our garden will grow again
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