Because caring hands keep the garden weed-free
and cut withered blooms that are done,
Because morning dew awakens new buds
and the earth is warmed by the sun,
The splendour of colourful grace and beauty
never seems to come to an end;
Because there's a season for each fair bloom
they perform, then bow and bend
To a flourish of picturesque paradise
awaiting the stage and their scene.
Because the clouds weep from time-to-time,
scent freshens and leaves remain green.
Because sun sets on the embroidered beds,
the glorious colours rest;
Then, once again, the following day,
they dance their elegant best.
Flushed, fragile, painted, magestic -
a magical atmosphere
Because our fair flowers perform for all
on a garden-stage that's near.
©Joan Adams Burchell
Used With Permission
All Rights Reserved By Author