Long Hours and a few Dying Flowers
Long hours tick by, slow and cold
As petals drop, and beauty grows old
A few dying flowers, once full of grace
Now wilted, faded, without a trace
Of vibrancy, of life, of color bright
Leaving only memories, a distant light
The hours drag on, a relentless pace
As beauty fades, and time takes its place
Yet in the wilting, there's a strange allure
A poignant beauty, a fleeting allure
A reminder that life is short and sweet
And every moment, we must seize and greet
So let us cherish the flowers, dying though they be
And honor the hours, long and slow as they may be
For in their fragile beauty, we find a truth profound
That life is precious, and every moment, a treasure to be found.
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