Gazes fall to flowers in bloom,
they drift in wind, perform for all eyes,
happy to please without words.
Magnificent are the colors seen,
dancing across lines of sight,
confident in their shimmering beauty.
As time goes by, so does life,
weathering storms, horrid drought,
till all that's left are shredded weeds.
Delicate petals on a center death bed,
no winds to sway, no colors to flare,
unable to draw a single gasp.
Light blue fades to weary grey,
shriveled stem reaching for someone, anyone,
before finally giving up.
Forget-me-nots are quite ironic,
for everyone forgets petals when they fall;
They always do.