A blossom

Do you pluck the flower from it’s tree
So that you alone can admire it’s beauty?
Or do you leave it be
And study it, patiently?

Would you weep at the thought of someone else coming along
To snatch it from your view?
Tell me, if you could be me, what you would do.
Tell me just how much that little flower means to you.

My flower lit up everything 
The sun longed for her radiance 
Her voice was laced in silk and honey
Such a symphony in her cadence.

Mortality, is what makes beauty true
And she was no exception.
Entropy applies to flowers too
Regardless of perfection.

Her words are now a memory, her glow is fading dimmer.
My flower bloomed and left the room
Summer turns to Winter.