"My Sweet Blossom" by William Samuelson
Not hot pink; more faded,
as your outer petals decay
and death creeps slowly inward.
Your sweet fragrance has all but vanished,
and your beauty has surely fled:
the bloom that was destined to end.
Your fellows have all but fallen,
drifting away with a sweet summer scent,
to be sold at the market for a few scarce cents.
Your stem still stands,
nestled in a clear glass vase;
there its end is still slightly damp.
You are not alone, nor together
with the others surrounding,
your only companion is less physical:
a spirit sensed in some dimension.
As your last petal drifts down,
it is slowly laid upon the earth,
where it rests and where one day it
will nurture the soil and the future.