Crushed Violets

With a very relentless winter flowers are late with their charming
faces but ever faithful to rise again!

“Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it” Mark Twain

They lie withered, blue violets pressed
to the ground
Trodden under foot by humanities’
Leaves of green streaked with
Bleed from the offender’s frown
Children’s breaths are hushed
their spirits crushed
Oh little ones, you have died only
to rise anew
Sweetly sleep in your humble tombs
until again you bloom

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