As Another Petal Falls
Last week I cut a bouquet of flowers
from my garden and now they’re withering.
It fills me with melancholy memories
about a time when my love was new
and gently flowed within my heart.
Time between bud to bloom and death
of the once velvet petals has come too soon.
I've watched their bright colors fade
and frowned when some fell away.
It's as if their drooping faces
means their heartbeat is slowing down.
I sighed when in twilight's lavender embrace,
another petal fluttered to the floor.
I'm reminded of the childhood daisy game
and think, Will the last petal fall
as I whisper, "He loves me not?"
I hope it gently descends without grief,
but no relief will I find in its departing.
How I will mourn when at last, it dies,
leaving me with the sense of another loss.
I've held on as long as a bloom to its stem.
In the mayhem of life, I've had reason to sigh.
Memories linger inside my heart,
although my love and I have grown apart.
I am recalling each beautiful year
of the love we once had and then lost.
A tear for each one, I sorrowfully cried.
In despair, I will softly whisper goodbye
and weep as the last wilted petal falls.
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