by John Wyatt
copyright 2002
a star, so big
yet so small.
a child hopes,
yet, will fall.
Sunshine
sighing through the leaves.
A gentle breeze.
A flower.
A child laughs.
Life indeed, at its finest hour.
a flower,
so sweet,
pleases the eye.
yet is trampled,
and left, to die.
Flower of my life.
My seed.
Whither now doth she wander?
a winter
night, so dark.
yet, to all must come to pass.