As Another Petal Falls

Last week I cut a bouquet of flowers from my garden and now they’re withering. It fills me with melancholy memories about a time when my love was new and gently flowed within my heart. Time between bud to bloom and death of the once velvet petals has come too soon. I've watched their bright colors fade and frowned when some fell away. It's as if their drooping faces means their heartbeat is slowing down. I sighed when in twilight's lavender embrace, another petal fluttered to the floor. I'm reminded of the childhood daisy game and think, Will the last petal fall as I whisper, "He loves me not?" I hope it gently descends without grief, but no relief will I find in its departing. How I will mourn when at last, it dies, leaving me with the sense of another loss. I've held on as long as a bloom to its stem. In the mayhem of life, I've had reason to sigh. Memories linger inside my heart, although my love and I have grown apart. I am recalling each beautiful year of the love we once had and then lost. A tear for each one, I sorrowfully cried. In despair, I will softly whisper goodbye and weep as the last wilted petal falls.