Beautiful death surrounds me.
Uniform greens blossom,
their spirits are slowly crushed by their own glamour.
As they bloom, magnificent and dramatic,
they are overwhelmed by the pure feeling
that threatens to tear them apart.
They live, oh, how they live,
their lives so colourful and short.
Each quick moment is expressed
with fiery importance. Each slow second
makes them catch their breath as they grasp
the pure joy and the debilitating sadness of it all.
And then they fall, crying,
touched by the perfection of their own tragedy.
From the ground they look up and watch the last of them tumble
to the forest floor. They gaze upward, even when the trees are bare,
remembering the image of themselves with such fascination,
wondering how, oh how, they could have been
so perfectly alive.
AN: This was a quick "write a poem in two minutes" exercise. Crit is very welcome and all reviews will be returned.