A fading flower weeps fragility and grace,
A delicate beauty beholding its face,
Each shrivelling petal gets wrinkled and worn,
Exhausted, world weary, it’s weathered and torn.
Their once clear complexion, plumped up and pert,
Has a soft irridescence, a look of feint hurt.
They haven’t the strength to turn round to the light,
Hanging their heads, they long for goodnight.