Floral Frolic Of Age

There will be people who give you flowers,

There will be ones who make you bloom.

I won't be corrupted by weeds, I won't have adulterated- my seeds,

I won't be worn away by the sun's scorch, or by the frolic of the thunderstorm,

I will caress my petals with age's embrace,

Fondle my wrinkles, as I obey what's been destined,

I will wilt but with grace,

As I'm just another bud on His vine.