I just had an inkling...
Never felt the pulse losing,
But then I kept lying,
While it kept dying.

A slow, painful death.

Of the flower losing its petals,
Slowly, parting ways from its sepals...
Sometimes in a very vast garden, you do miss a flower or two.
Don't tend to it as you must do.
Those that now lie on the earth,
What are all they worth?
And what when the flower was in the bloom,
Bathed in warm sun, and caressed by the moon,
Mere remembrances of the life that once was,
Just another dead flower to remind all good must pass.
Now only a soft fragrance in memories,
Hoping that one little bud will again grace the nursery.