Colin F. Jones

CHANGE

Spread your wings lovely flower,
Fly o’er the mountain range,
But fly too far beyond your hour,
The landscape it will change.
The casting of your shadow
Will draw the arrow from a bow,
From the stranger in the meadow,
In a land that you don’t know.
That you’ll lead him to your kin,
By the blood trail that you leave,
For they are of no use to him
Thus you will be left to grieve.
Then there’ll grow a different flower,
Despite all that you perceive.