Falling Petals

Someday these soft and colourful whorls

Will wither and wilt and die in the end

As a gust of wind, plucks them from their rings

They’ll float for moments, last of their life

To fall on the ground, just below

Not far from where, they had bloomed

Fading colours, fragrance just a trace

Rest all of it, is out there somewhere

Gently wafting across the glade

To find some waiting eager nares

And a tender heart, that might try to sense

Their fleeting joys and lasting pain