Squandering time chasing
snowflakes has resulted in
the melting of my dreams.
Ripened pears that hung
on tres like teardrop
earrings were never tasted.
Their delicious sweet liquid
evaporated into
shriveled up hopes.

Exquisite formulations of
fecundated seeds were
not harvested.
A garden of splendor
was left unattended.
Blankets were not dispensed
when the coldness crept in.

A cradle once filled with
monumental potential
has fallen from a
mighty redwood.
Consternatin now serenades
this withering prodigy.