Thee Purple Flower

61 x 72 (if I’m not mistaken, I have to remeasure!)

Poem translation:

The rustling leaves fall down by my feet,
Oh, how the colors swirl!
To do by Thee, will I suffer in the end?
Oh, little one, don’t question the ways of the wind.

For the leaves will come around once more,
The cycling circle of the flower will floor.
But not to worry, Oh, sweet child of mine,
You can see the colors A-Change!

And when the time commences, once more,
That flower, The flower will rise from her slump!,
And She will be No More.