WHAT AN INTERESTING TUESDAY

This day that came
With such rainshower
That shed some light
On our wilted flower

Has broken the stems
Of what we all knew
And now its out
Can no longer stew

For what was in our minds
Thought dead and buried
Is out of the graveyard
And in the garden steadied

Its the roses thorns
That made us bleed
Its the foxgloves poisen
Tainting our trusty Steed
Its the poppys red petals
That now rememberance is for
And the lilys white flower
That opened the door