The wilting flower stands in wonder
Her scent slightly pungent spicier than in prior days
When she a projectile of seductive beauty in living color
Stood erect growing to be admired inhaled consumed
She was nature's art
But today the sun rejects her
The ground's gravity magnet pulls
Making her slump closer towards disintegration
She marvels at her little life
What is it becoming
How soon will her fragrance fade
She knows she knows nothing
Except that now is all there is
So she stands proudly as straight as can be
Exuding what's left
Of her perfume
She does....as do we. Lovely, Myrna.
ReplyDeletea wonderful renditoon of wabi sabi
ReplyDeleteThe scent of the flower is a wonderful memory... love this as a metaphor as well...
ReplyDeleteReminds me a bit of Emily Dickinson "Essential oils are wrung..."
This reminds me--vividly--of the camellias at our local park and the piles of blossoms that fall and wither under the bushes.
ReplyDelete"She was nature's art
ReplyDeleteBut today the sun rejects her"
This is heartbreaking, to know that she feels like that about herself.
Perspective is such a wondrous thing. Whenever I see a flower wilt, I wonder if she is imagining what comes next, all the other ways in which she will become something else, something new...
Luv the loss of sexuality metaphor as this flower slumps and wilts. Such a cleverly wrought poem
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my sumie Sunday Myrna
Much💟love
Subtle, clever and lovely. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteLove the determination of this write.
ReplyDeleteI love the strength and attitude here especially in the closing lines; "So she stands proudly as straight as can be/Exuding what's left of her perfume." Why resign when we can rebel❤️ Gorgeously rendered!
ReplyDeleteThis makes me so sad for the flower and for all of us aging. I like that the poem ends with "perfume." Linger on.
ReplyDeleteDelightful... as its acceptance . Wow very nice. ( i also love the pastel or at least i think it is)
ReplyDeleteZQ
It is sad when ones beauty seems to wilt away but, the perfume of life still lingers.
ReplyDeleteI feel sad for the little flower. But, I guess, this is eventually what happens to us all.
ReplyDeleteWhen even the sun turns away we still have ourselves. And even if the blooming is weak, it is still ours.
ReplyDeleteA stunning extended metaphor … and that close - WOOZERS!!! Love it!!!
ReplyDeleteMuch like we all. But we go one better; even when we die, our fragrance lasts and lives on in the hearts and minds of so many.
ReplyDeleteVery philosophical.
ReplyDeleteRichly described.
ReplyDeleteCould have been the scent of a woman.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful words
ReplyDelete