Pale, pink and alabaster now blanket the earth,
a covering of delicate velvet snow,
scattered under a labyrinth of darkened limbs,
visible by lantern lights and lunar glow.
With twilight eyes, watching them fall and sway,
the crisp flow of air, they writhe and flitter,
dancing to a haunting tune,
of a midnight played Zither.
A single blossom struggles, breaks free,
it sways upon the dark wind of night.
Watching it’s journey, entranced,
as a breeze lifts it into flight.
A gust picks up and swirls a mass,
a tornado of pinks that hover over the floor.
Lost ones settle with siblings among the swelling crowd,
soon they will be withered, beauty no more,
The mass swirls and began to sink,
a beautiful, yet fleeting, memory made.
Strings lament with a twang in the night,
the song plucked for emotions to cascade.
This frail moment in time,
of fleeting beauty, shortly lived.
The beauty of one,
lost among the crowd,
blending in forever,
amongst what litters the ground.