the transience of beauty
has often concerned me,
and i frequently wish for a permanence
that nature won't allow.

i bought you flowers for your birthday,
baby's breath you said you liked.
they sit on a table
in your living room.

the browning of grass
the falling of leaves
the wilting of stems
not strong enough anymore

by nature, nature is fleeting:
a sad fact on most days,
but now I sit, shrouded in sorrow,
waiting for flowers to die.