When does this life, we have known,
Become a burden; not ours to own?

Late last Summer; some barren ground,
Tempted me to spread or lay down,
A mixture of old Perennial seed.
The seed did grow, without a weed
And flowers with a very strong stalk,
By the edge of our City sidewalk.
Daisies, Bachelor Buttons and mystery flowers
Grew and grew through day light hours.
Blues, Whites, Golds one could see
And a sense of good, was mine to be.
This year, the flowers, some new to me,
With the arrival of a Orange Blackseed Poppy.
I can hardly wait to see the surprise,
When that corner of flowers do arrive.

It's now 4 AM in the morning.
I am starting to fade.
I have been up for hours,
Avoiding sleep, my tirade.
I need to quit writing, and creep
Into my bed and go back to sleep.

Would you still know me
If you saw me again?
For my hair is now white
And whiskers cover my chin.