Intrepid petunia, November gray,

a ray of life on an autumn day.

Standing lonely in a planter on a porch,

the season of gold’s solemn torch.

On a canvas of gray grows a shadow of white,

sunbeams focus ‘til called by night.

Her lasting beauty our sun is drawn,

through lonely nights to kiss at dawn.

Soon to be tucked in bed of snow,

a winter slumber awaiting springs glow

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