In gardens where silent petals fall,
The whispers of blooms softly call.
They dance with grace in a fleeting breath,
Writing tales of life and death.

Amidst the colors, vibrant and bright,
Lies the shadow of eternal night.
Where roses fade and lilies bend,
Life’s journey finds its solemn end.

Yet even as the petals wither,
Their essence lingers, light as a feather.
In death, they speak, a gentle reminder,
That every end holds a seed of wonder.

In the quiet of the fading day,
Flowers whisper what words cannot say.
In the cycle of life, they find release,
In death’s embrace, they rest in peace.