Colin F. Jones

MOTHER NATURE

How oft when one doth wed, they wed so blind
That all the beauty that they see is fake,
That what they sought they later leave behind,
And blame the other for their own mistake.
We are the same folk now as we were then
But now our hearts are lacking that first love.
That lust created hiding lawn from fen
That now has become the crow and not the dove.
Most times tis birth ensured despite the twain
That matters not so long as life is formed,
For nature wins through all the torrid pain
Life’s greatest role that which it has performed.
Folk think they are in charge of all they do
And all too late find this is never true.