Late Autumn seeds.

Planted; Nurtured, 

born early into Spring,

fully formed yet flawed.

 

A flesh glistening

in the light of each new dawn

as if kissed by a mist, rising

to greet each day.

 

Pastel hues in rainbow's shine,

as tiny fingers splayed,

stars from a nucleus of love.

Surviving; thriving in a blistering sun

sleeping dusk through dawn

until the frost of October's morn

exhaling its final breath, given

yet taken by cruel twists of fate.

The clumsy note of nature's song,

mesembryanthemums

can never stay for long

but the seeds remain

to be seen again,and again

for those who are willing to sow.