A Dying Flower Bush

In a garden once vibrant, where blossoms would sway,
Stands a bush now withering, in disarray.
Petals once radiant, now dulled by the sun,
Whispers of life fade; its battle feels done.

Leaves, once a canvas of emerald delight,
Curl and turn brittle, succumbing to night.
The fragrance that danced on the soft morning air,
Now lingers in shadows, a memory rare.

The insects that thrived in its colorful bloom,
Have drifted away, leaving emptiness, gloom.
Bees that once buzzed, drawn to the perfume,
Now search for a treasure that’s lost to the gloom.

Yet in every wilt, there's a story that's worn,
Of sunshine and raindrops, of beauty reborn.
For even in fading, there’s wisdom to find,
In cycles of nature, our hearts intertwined.

So let it rest gently, this bush standing tall,
For even in silence, it has given its all.
And when springtime returns, with its warmth and its light,
New life will awaken from the shadows of night.