In so little space
you fill so much
many of you exactly the same
yet different in every way.
Your color is bright
and gives the impression that you live
but I know the truth,
underneath this mask, you are dying.
That doesn't make you
any less beautiful.
You may be dying
but I know what is to come.
You fight for survival
like many have before,
struggling to keep
your head held above the water.
Like all things
your death will come.
It will be beautiful
It will be sad
And it will be forgotten.
The spells of spring
will rebirth your life
and with it will come
The fresh smells of grass.
