Vanity of nature

Nature is vain.

Her power knows no bounds

And she colours in the earth

With fits of glory.

Like an angry child,

Clutching crayons.

Selfish scrawls of wax,

On white walls.

Yet in this moment,

An early March afternoon

I forgot all about her. 

She stood weak, helpless
Shrieks of wind silenced

And even the golden sun 

With it's unfaltering glare,

And ethereal smile

Failed to compete 

With the warm glow of two hearts

Sewn together.

Nature was vain,

But this time was not hers.

It belonged to us.

Should it be remembered;

Of two friends in a park

With their lives intertwined.