Those roses are fading. Fading to be fallen. Slowly and carefully, One by one. Falling onto the heart of the earth. To be embraced by it's bosom, as every drop joins it's mother. The withered leaves, saddened, joins the banquet to be addressed by father, like a shroud for petals. The wind sings the dirge over the trees as though a harp. The dusty soil seize the deceased, being the casket. The sun smiles at the plant shedding the light, The bestest things are preserved for you!! A.C
Expressions penned with feathery Excalibur!