Full of the promise of warmer days they took my gaze,
tiny green shoots with whitened tips in the frosted grass,
opening their white lily bells with green tipped trumpets,
my love for them grew as the night hours’ lightening hue.
Covering the winter cold earth they drift over brown earth,
and shine like city lights scattered through dark streets.
Each bell chiming its silent call to other tiny seeds to sprout
and cover the fields in graceful charm, putting winter to rout.
Now I look, tear misted eyes at those upside down fairy cups,
as begins a touch of brown stains – too short their time for me,
starting the slow decay amidst those twinkling bright lights,
and grief catches the throat but my loss keenly fights –
with the joy of knowing that deeply hidden, ‘neath the ground,
small globes are being shaped, soon to begin their long sleep,
til next year’s frost stirs them, bringing new hope as once again
they glimmer against the dusk of a grey, winter, weary world..