A flower Glory

One who holds so much power, in the beauty of a flower, Exquisite and lovely as a rose, easy to look at, but hard to hold, How rays of sun show your grace, and shine upon your loving face, Upon whose petals the morning dew lies, and reflects the sun in it eyes, A beauty to be envied, this is true, and still to be as shy as you, And at the rising of the suns peak, you open your petals and softly speak, As you gently wipe the sleep from your eyes, and greet the beautiful morning sun rise, You gracefully sit on the pound beloved, in a handmade bed that fit like a glove, Stem straight, petals reaching, golden rays, of love, for This beautiful flower, sent from above, nurtured with kind words and the illusion of love, My pedals, my crown and glory, they tell me no other flower even comes close to my beauty, But the cold truth blows in with the wind, and the harsh reality of winter begins, Did you ever, stop, and think, how the life of a flower is short and bleak, People come, to stop and stare, at the beauty of your flowing hair, And right at your beauties peak, When no one even dares to speak, of a face so fair, even the angles stop and stare, But one by one they begin to fall, until there’s nothing there at all And now that thing you held so dear is all but gone it disappeared And the ones, who looked at your beauty in a daze, Walk right past and no longer pays-attention to the lonely flower, Without its petals is no longer showered in glory and praise, which it so desperately craves to survive, Not soon after withers and dies, Now hear you sit before your last petal falls, hoping that someone would hear your calls, Begging and pleading for them to remember, A flowers glory that was so tender, And when your final petal dropped, you looked around but no one stopped, The seasons had changed without any warning, and the beauty of this rare flowers were no longer alluring, You had been de throne, tossed to the back to become unknown, But did you ever think you’d see the day they would flee, from the beauty they all once wanted to see, Not one tear drops, not one person cries, they just continue to walk, right on by In anticipation to see, what new flowers will come to be? But in the process they lack to remember or even care, about the beauty of a flower that was so rare, That died in the coldness of the winter air, A flowers beauty is truly one to admire but like all things it to will expire