The Final Sleep
A petal falls as morning dawns
flutters and sways gently aground
a light breeze may carry it away
before nature finalizes decay
the golden rose from whence it came
stands bare, its grace dismayed
a bud, a bloom, a scent to please
offers memories of what has been
a cycle of life, or so it seems
a moment in time or merely a dream
did we note its wonderful bloom
or did it live in solitude
too short a life to go unseen
beauty bounds within our realms
reflect on all of nature’s being
before we near our final sleep
© Elisabeth Dubois – March – 2011
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