By Anthony Ward

Snowdrops droop
Steeped in sentiment
Like perched memories
Appearing forlorn and frail
Wearing winters fleece
Blending with their harsh climate

They could be so easily trampled
Yet stand resilient
Braced against brute force
Slugging it against the odds
Hardy and robust
Modestly opposed to the bountiful beauty
Of springs bloom
Bearing just a hint of green.

One thought on “The Labouring Flower

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