The Ethereal Silence of a Fallen Flower…

Nature’s in-frangible awesomeness, the balmiest splendor;

Gestates the everlastingly hexing beauty of wonder.

Oriented scant, are its sweet-scented moments on earth;

But the supernal beauty’s saga of esteem, has no dearth.

 

Keels it mildly to the coolheaded breeze, mirthfully perched;

Caressed euphorically with love and exquisitely attended.

Ornaments itself in the most burnished of the flushed red;

To the mesmeric redolence, this beaut is celestially wed.

 

Aborigine of grace, speaks the fine language of peace;

Love is its culture, modesty is its attire, carried in ease.

Echoes the raspy wind’s bell and tiny spirit is glad to kneel;

Descending graciously and thinly to ratify the death’s deal.

 

Its cushy petals autumn, fly and dry by the sun-baked heat;

But the memorable dawdling essence, reincarnate and repeat.

Profoundly fathoming is this suave and orphic flavored power;

Drawing me gently to the ethereal silence of the fallen flower.

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