Our flower wilts

as we run out

of will,

and what sustains us.

Sun still shines,

rain still comes,

and the soil

only gets richer

as we fall.

 

Our leaves depart,

our petals, too;

succumbing to time

and gravity.

A bent stem,

no longer following the day,

signifies our aim;

downward.

 

What if there were

some way

to give another breath?

A breath of color,

back into the greens,

the yellows, the reds.

What if there were

some way to give the flower back

radiance

and the will to live?

 

 

HG – 2019