The wind exhales;
Plucking pink petals from the trees,
Falling, Mounding, beneath a canopy,
Like amputated sparrow tails
Which bury each April acre-
This is nature’s massacre.
Beauty is so fragile,
That the slightest breathe shall shoe her away,
Yet misery’s more then thrilled to stay-
And reluctantly retires.
Today, these pleasures which we cherish,
Shall slip away, and with us, perish.
If I’m to learn a single thing-
Let it be that petal’s die.
Roots are choked, rivers dry,
And blinking ruins everything.
For one moment in the unaware-
Is a petal stolen into air.
Lazarus Knix
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blinking-ruins-everything/
