The weight of your beauty
Brought you down,
Forced you to crumble,
Your stalk snapping
As you succumbed to what
You could not keep aloft.
My dear dead flower: you
Uplifted yourself without support.
You aimed high, towards sun in sky,
Yet without aid or dutiful crutch.
And so thy fall is all the more fallow,
For it was a useless loss.
11.39
5.4.06
