“Soft sunny Sunday at the Sea” Gun Roswell

Harbour

Yellows on the rocks appeared suddenly
Bursting into bloom, despite the gloom
Weather gods throwing snow and ice
When all nature was supposed to be nice

But these tiny little yellow buggers
They seem like nothing them bothers
Sprouting out at will, none of them ill
Growing even stronger, day by day still

Even on this hard rocky place
Even if the rain pours and the clouds stay
The first flowers of spring
Will stay just there and swing