the last magnolia blossom waits to drop
it is a relic of the spring
but it is unaware
it cannot feel its petals gently fall
the other blooms have set their seed
as nature has its way
I smugly believe that I am wise and strong
and yet as seasons pass away
I grieve the coming heat
I envy falling petals in the night
the peace of death without despair
until spring comes again
Last Blossom
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