Thoughts on a Wilted Flower
Her beauty once defined perfection,
Accepted the awestruck affection
Of every creature passing by,
The Hummingbird and Butterfly.
But now her bloom is past its prime,
The victim of unfeeling time.
The beauty of each petal ceases,
Colors fading, lined with creases.
What does she think as she stands there?
Does she know? Is she aware?
Behind the faded bloom a pod -
The next year’s flower, a gift from God
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