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