Withering flowers on an autumn day,
Pale yellow grass beds where the petals lay;
It’s not the cruel weather to blame,
The pain of heart is also the same.
No rain no sunshine can make amend,
Into thin air when the petals blend;
The sorrow an unfulfilled love lends,
Can’t be diminished even by friends.
The gardener can barely wait and watch,
While the winter lays its wrath;
Those lonely endless cold walks,
With teary eyes and a heavy heart.
And just like that the spring turns in,
Flowers, colors and petals sing;
Though nature comes out of the frost,
The heart still mourns for the petal lost.