by John Wyatt
copyright 2002

a star, so big
yet so small.
a child hopes,
yet, will fall.

Sunshine sighing through the leaves.
A gentle breeze.
A flower.
A child laughs.
Life indeed, at its finest hour. 

a flower, so sweet,
pleases the eye.
yet is trampled,
and left, to die. 

Flower of my life.
My seed.
Whither now doth she wander?


a winter night, so dark.
yet, to all must come to pass.