The Flowers Of Telfair Square

Soft Southern spring,

sweet nectar of Savannah’s dream.

Moss on oaks of tree lined square.

With essence of a summer to come

enveloping the cool night air.

Squirrels skitter, romp and play

And sun dancing on shadows without names.

On Telfair Square old gray men hobble,

shift and moan as they make their way

across the broken shards of ancient cobblestone.

As to tomorrows future and our reproof,

which steal to the whisper of loves tune.

Oh sweet flowers of Telfair Square,

Oh tender ecstasy of my days without care.

Come now soft breeze, with swaying gray moss in trees,

Come now days without end,

And bring to me my Savannah again.

for She in the gentleness of flight

steals my thoughts this day…this night.

Oh Sweet Flowers Of Telfair Square.

J. Allen Wilson © (three) 2006