Maytime Flowers
Inspired By the tale of Anne Boleyn
Written By Ruairidh Anderson
There’s a flower that waits through the cold the rain, for springtime games
And though it feels the bite of storms of hail, it bears the pain.
Does my fragrance lift, do my colours fade in winters hand?
The unerring light of love of life, or shifting sands?
I knew when you called me but clouds melt in summer’s breeze,
I knew when you called me out.
I found that flower overcome at last, laid waste by winds by icy breath.
We shared that time, that well-tread path between birth and death.
I knew when you called me but clouds melt in summer’s breeze,
I knew when you called me out.
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