We all
Love a
Blossom budding
But once
The bloom
Drops and
All your
Left with
Is a
Thorny stick
Will you
Still admire
Me as
You do
With fireworks
Or as
With fireworks
Will admiration
Fizzle when
The sky
Returns to
Dark if
So don’t
Look upon
Me now
But keep
Your stare
Elsewhere upon
Perpetual beauty
For I
Like you
Will fall
One day
And be
Nothing more
Beautiful than
Thorny thickets