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