There is little quite
So beautiful as
A dying flower.
It has gone just beyond
Its vibrant prime,
The stem droops sadly
Under the weight
Of wilted petals.
It is for this reason --
This sudden loss of time --
That we can truly apreciate
The beauty of
A dying flower.
In the height of Summer
There are so many of them,
So much color and life,
That for a time
We take their simple
Yet complex whimsy
For granted.
We don't stop
To smell the flowers.
There is still time.
There are many chances to
Enjoy their limited company.
So we walk on by,
And we keep walking
Till time is nearly gone,
And we wish we'd
Cherished them more.
But there is no going back,
No undoing past mistakes.
We just try to bask
In the little whimsy
That remains.
I guess that's why.
That is why
There is little quite
So beautiful as
A dying flower
YOU ARE READING
Mind's Tales
PoetryIf you're one of those folks that think that all poems need to rhyme, I'm sorry. In any case, this is a simple collection of poems. A few of them rhyme. But most of them don't.
