An Ode To Dying Flowers

I walked home in cloudy streets
Littered with rolling, dying flowers;
Wind blowing one last roll until
These masterpiece wheels of nature's silk
Were gliding across the gritty paved streets,

Each roll ripped off one more petal;
Yet the flower felt no pain.
Each grit of sand tore it apart,
Sadly,
It bled pollen and tears of clorophyl.

Chasing each other into painful oblivion,
These flowers, Earth-bound stars,
Shine a dull white light-
Remeniscent of school children
Playing tag during recess
Until everyone has skinned, scabbed knees,
Cracked and bleeding pure satisfaction.

And I,empty, alienated,
Walked past these bleeding, dying stars;
Across the deep pitted and scarred cement,
Over puddles and past the still flowers
To move on.

What I never got to see
With the passing of one more gust of wind,
Was that these wheels of dying beauty,
Now without pedals or tears,
Rolled themselves into the puddle,
To drown in the cloudy pools in the streets.