Ode to a Lily
Your fragrance… cinnamon and honey laced
assails my senses; they admit defeat,
surrendering but glad of being placed
within your aura. It is such a treat
to smell and see a miracle in bloom
or watch as buds reveal a tranquil face.
They touch the soul and brighten every room
with springtime’s scent and petals of white lace.
But as with everything that time may touch,
your beauty fades; so too your bouquet wanes
until there’s nothing left. Death comes to such
whose loveliness, like melody’s refrains,
spawns memories we cherished of life’s song
we learned to sing and found a fragile throng.