April 27th, 2016

Like the first flower of spring,

she beautifully bloomed.

She brought happiness to my heart

and erased all gloom.

She was given much water,

much soil and sunlight!

Given all that she wanted,

she was treated just right.

But as time went by,

the flower withered away.

For the time we spent together

would be remembered to this day.

Her petals receded,

as did her glorious scent.

Our times spent together

had been rather descent.

From that day, I chose not

to pick yet another flower.

There'd been no place of joy,

not even in a bower.

I learned from her death

both misery and strife,

for death is no choice;

Death is Life.

Google the word "bower". Something like a meadow, I think.