All flowers die

All flowers die

Fallow deer bite off their heads

Blundering children

Flatten them

In a madcap frenzy

Unmoved by the solemnity

Of the walking dead

Heads bowed

In silent evocation

Beside the gravestone

Of a loved one.

Butterflies are fickle

Flitting from one bloom to another

Enraptured souls

Looking for salvation

As the finely drawn faces

Of neat young widows

Weep in solitude

Beneath the shadow

Of a Cherry Tree

Blossomed in pink

In memory of their nuptials.

The lush ache of heavy scent

Blooms

Flowers bend weary heads

In supplication,

All is lost

To sorrow and self-sacrifice.