Paper Whites the flower of my birth with their slender green reaches.
I see the ever frail petals of pure it beseeches
Narcissus such beauty reflects in the cold of winter
Love of beauty in the grips of the death of winter
In the vase of glass it ponders in a reflective pool of water
Image reflects its life forced into bloom beauty upon the water
A lost love in numbness of slumbers death once adorn me these flowers
As divine the image the presence is lost in a silent punishment of flowers
A waste in pondering over such beauty it is short as it wastes in death
Not realizing the beauty was not in the flower only the gift bear now in death
Suicide by gift of beauties delight to sacrifice all for gift
Unable to leave the beauty of his false image now in ash all adrift
Who honors my turning year as the bearer now longer come to flowers?
Who cares to celebrate beauty in death the gloom of long shadow towers?
I miss the hands that forced the flower
I see them there and it makes me cower
Others had disdain a pride, talents and image
Others punished his heart, gifts and courage
Are there paper whites for me this December?
Do they await another fate for this December?
Yes, the paper whites tremble for me as they rest upon the ground
The paper whites reflect upon the black granite round
The Narcissus stares how they reflect upon image by the ground
Paper Whites are every where in such hallow ground
I stand in the awe of uniformed pinnacles before me
There are paper whites in December for me?
And from me to all of forbearance —