Mum's the Word

I bought a potted mum this fall;
Its buds were mostly closed.
It looked so full it would be gorgeous
One day, I supposed.

The petals that were poking through
Were bright and purply-pink.
I pictured them by my front door -
Quite perfect, I did think.

It took them days to bloom and then
I saw, to my surprise,
A burst of rosy daisy-twins
With yellow-centered eyes.

It is the fattest batch of mums
That I have ever seen -
Voluptuous, robust and bright,
Yet soothing and serene.

I know its color soon will fade
As frost makes itself known;
And as the petals do succumb,
Each branch will look like bone.

When that occurs, I'll gently place
My mum upon the ground;
Perhaps it will survive the season
When I'm not around.

And when, next fall, I check it out,
It's possible I'll see,
A new pink blossom, half-unfurled,
Just waiting there for me.

If not, I'll buy another one;
But 'til next autumn comes,
I'll get a charge each time I gaze
On my fantastic mums.