The bulb is but a living stone of Earth.
Underground waiting long, every day,
The daffodil sleeping the time away.
The spring is now arriving to us all,
The Lily is blooming now, so proud and tall.
The Crocuses will go, passing warm May,
Not even bright Gladiolus would stay.
Bulbs must end quickly in time for the fall.
The living stone is deep under the Earth,
Thickening, fattening, growing in girth.
Saving up energy for the next season,
An ugly brown clump, but what's the reason?
The Cyclamen small, so simple and mere,
Miss their bright colors?
Just wait 'til next year!
Rob J., 14
