The Fall of Autumn in Whimsy

While I’m not much of a poet, I do on occasion write things and decide to keep them.

Lush and blooming
tended to
pared back
impressively pruned
given sunlight
love
attention

You whisper, “you’re beautiful”

the hand of time
ever moving
ever passing
sunlight falls into darkness
petals like teardrops
are taken away in the wind
decaying
forgotten

You pass by

Our flowers died
your love forgotten

as if expected to just know how you felt
without a word

as if they’d died on their own accord
without your love

Your empty watering can
rusted