Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Lace

Every season she changes grace,
Dress of many colors,
Bliss of the summer,
Simplicity of winter.

A time for every change,
Song in the middle of the storm,
Passing fancies go away,
Yet she remains.

I grow older,
She remains young,
Never was she finer,
Crowned in the queen's lace.

No comments:

Post a Comment