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.