Little flowers, beware!

The King of Frost has come

You shake and gasp for air

And your fragile bodies go numb

The evil times are here

The sun has lost its power

Petals weeping, full of fear

Air stills and darkness towers

The warm summer breeze is gone

Replaced by harsh, cold, lethal gusts

That scatters birds, bees and even the fawn,

Stripping all to grey with murderous lust

Alas! All living is covered with death

Dark, cold, not even a light’s ray

Valleys lay tranquil under a wintry sheath

In wet graves do its treasures lay