A pretty flower is always a pretty flower in someone’s eyes

A pretty flower
looks pretty
even when the wind does blow
when the frost and ice
is at its worst
still the flower does grow
a simple form
a solid base
a sweeping stem
a lovely face
A pretty flower
made pretty by
the way that she is seen
by eyes that love her beauty
and enjoy just how serene
in Winter she may seemingly
feel tired and look forlorn
her purple gown may sort of drown
the memories, of when the corn
dazzled us and brought its riches
to our festive board
but to those eyes who adore her
they get their just reward
they see the winter season
as just part of God’s way
they know her form and splendour
and know its here to stay
they know that in the springtime
she will wear that orange plait
for a pretty flower is always
a pretty flower its that
rarity, she shows us
poetically sublime
a pretty flower is pretty
every blooming time
and it takes a Bee to realise
and of course the Butterfly
who comes to sip the nectar
with a twinkle in his eye
who lodges in her petals
in a wondrous new embrace
remembering those leggings
and all her marvellous grace
remembering the sunlight
that picks out every hue
recounting all those lovely smiles
that she would share with you
the nectar sweet creates the dream
that the Butterfly remembers
even when the days are short
and his fire has reached the embers
tis then he holds that memory
of his wondrous little flower
that calmed him when he panicked
and held his gaze each hour