LILACS
Slowly, the pretty, sweet lilacs are fading away,
Their fragrance no longer greets us each day,
Bushes of purple pale pink and pure white
Were in their short season a wonderful sight.
At the back of the garden and along the lane
There they blossom in sunshine and in rain,
A delight for all to see in mid to late spring,
Gladden the heart as true beauty they bring.
The lilac one of springs maidens sweet and fair,
Alas, too short lived, even if tended with care,
Her arrival you wait and watch for impatiently,
Her coming means of cruel winter you are free.
I no longer gather bunches to place on a table,
For the life of those blossoms seem quite unable
To live as long if plucked by thoughtless man,
So now I just let them grow and see all that I can.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson June 18, 2003