Once it stood
shining,
vibrant,
radiant,
its brilliance
beautifying the surroundings.
But now,
after a minutely short existence,
it is
changing,
aging,
dying.
Each tender, silky-white petal
turns to a rusty brown,
then silently breaks away
and falls
peacefully,
gently,
to the ground.
As I watch helplessly,
I frown,
knowing
that soon
it will all be
over.
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
Once it stood
shining,
vibrant,
radiant,
its brilliance
beautifying the surroundings.
But now,
after a minutely short existence,
it is
changing,
aging,
dying.
Each tender, silky-white petal
turns to a rusty brown,
then silently breaks away
and falls
peacefully,
gently,
to the ground.
As I watch helplessly,
I frown,
knowing
that soon
it will all be
over.
©1986, Steven S. McNutt
The first poem I ever wrote that I truly thought was good. Thankfully, it was not the last.