Springtime

When tulips die,
There are no
Tears shed,
Nor beating drums
Nor wailing bugles;
No, not then.

When tulips die,
There is no procession,
Nor wake held,
Nor silent moment.
Nobody mourns for them.

When tulips die,
There is nothing.
Absolutely nothing.

Nothing but surrender
To the cold, wet earth,
With hope, faith and
The anticipation
Of resurrection.

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