Her hopes are withering slowly,
she doesn't know
whither she is heading for
in perplexity.

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From blossoming to whithering,
life is a cycle...
Whether spectacle or debacle,
nothing can be impeccable...

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Nature's many charms
(Part 3)
The bud,

It's coy visage,
All set to unveil.
It's immaculate beauty.
To become a flower,
Only to bloom for a while,
And then wither away.

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The lost leaf whispered
The witheredness of it's
Neighboring chlorophyll.

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