By Andrew R. Duckworth
Pink petals on a final bloom
Amid the dead and dying
Stand out as rays come pouring down
And hit the petals shining.
How long can a poor thing endure
When the world starts closing in
To tear those petals from the stem
And make the world dead ground again.
A final bloom, it’s all that’s left
Before winter arrives.
May this bloom last out the harsh cold
And have a chance to thrive.