The Last Flowers

With despair I watch, as they slip away one by one,
Their short-lived beauty now fading, their frilly dresses now brown
Some laying face down covered with the morning dew.
Little by little they will disappear and fade from my view

But oh, did they not have their glory, their day in the sun
Still, I hate their demise, cannot bear to lose even one
And when this day is done, this suffering wait over,
I’ll be sorrowful for a while, then an old friend will come
Aster will be dressed in ardent purples and blues,
And with her those friends with colors, burnt orange, rustic gold,
And ruby red, the most pleasant to the eye.

I will not lament, I will not wail,
For the show they put on is breath-taking in renewal
And, though in death they share their last beauty
I will still remember them well when the first snowflake falls…

For you my friend, a small reminder of the glories of life, and the inevitable ends.
The endings are false, but brief pauses as we change to another path.
Be at peace my dear friend…for there are no endings, only changes in state.

Steve ‘Easy’ Whitacre December 31, 2005

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