...and Hyacinth Cried, a Poem
The flower of the early Spring
although he's not the first
among the ones to break and sing
against the Winter's worst
Hyacinth, to carry glee
to lovers in their gardens
had found, this year, he had to win
against the hearts most hardened
His task, to bring joy, once again
had, suddenly, become
Impervious weight, to never end, and
to sadness he'd succumb
Tears in his heart ran down his stem
so bent, as he'd been broken
But still bloomed to prove those lives lost
will never be forgotten
...and Hyacinth Cried.
