Marigold

I just stumbled across this. I wrote it a few years ago. I suppose, it's not the best poetry in the world. Not even close to being my best writing. And the theme has been exploited by various artists in "The Rose" and other songs and poems. But, at the time, I guess it meant something to me, or I wouldn't have written it.

The Flower

A marigold is a lot like love;
The springtime sun warms the ground above,
And the seed begins to grow like crazy,
Never once becoming lazy.
With just a little rain,
It can overcome any pain.

As the summer comes and goes,
The beauty grows and grows.
Requiring only a little care,
Other flowers better beware;
Its beauty still grows stronger
As the nights grow longer and longer.

When the autumn nights get cold,
The blossoms still shine like gold.
Other flowers may give up hope,
But this one will not mope.
It lingers on and on,
Brightening almost any lawn.

But then one day the winter’s chill
Brings it down against its will.
The frost finally brings the end
And love is gone just like the wind.
Only the little seed remains,
To begin anew with springtime rains.