Death.

Death surrounds every
Beautiful flower
That once bloomed.
All the gray.
The moss leftover.
The ivory clings
To what's left of the earth.
It's my loneliest time.
Sun still rises
But you miss the way it feels.
It's a maddening tunnel
That never seems to end.
Then I remember.
As if it just left yesterday.
The bright hopefulness of spring,
The smell of lilac,
I miss it's determination.
To try again.
Be better then last year.
Become as beautiful as it once remembered.
As I remembered.
I'm tired of seeing
Death.