Sonnet 434

Those pink blushed clouds and skies of baby blue,
Sun kissed of rose, the tip top distant trees;
Sweet feathered warblers croon fair loves to woo
While cherub buds soft sway upon the breeze.
The last of winters’ blight dissolves in tears
That join in silver rivulets trickling down;
Of denizens delight, the forest cheers
As vernal togs prim bashful floras don.
So is it now as it once ever was
The always present constancy of change,
As when it seems that everything is lost—
There stands a bloom to yet of hope upraise;
I fare in faith, whatever life may bring,
For you my flower stay redolent of spring.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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