Flaming orange—the lilies bloom,
And fill the air with sweet perfume.
They paint the summer meadows fair,
And splash their brilliance everywhere.
They cast their fragrance on the breeze—
Unashamed, bold, with careless ease.
They bless the wanderer passing by
With joy no gold could ever buy.
Orange lilies of July—
You bloom, then fade, with soft goodbye.
Yet hope and faith – they still remain
That next July you’ll come again.
Dale Lloyd 
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