Poems. Wilted Petals.

In vases by my window, as soft daylight surrenders,

Are flowers that once blazed with multi-colored splendors.

Some may have wilted, but their sweet fragrances remain,

Their beauty somewhat faded, but their joy still haunts my brain.

Once bright and lovely, in the dressing room’s fluorescent light,

They reminded me of those who brought them, each and every night.

I’d touch them and ponder, oh, how quickly beauty can change,

How yesterday’s splendors can suddenly be disarranged.

Yet tucked in their faded beauty, a peaceful echo did stream,

Reminding me to seize the day and always stop to dream.

So I’ll press some petals fragile, because they cannot be restored,

Like an audience’s thunderous applause, or a moment I adored.

For even as days turn to years and slowly pass away,

Sweet memories will bloom again in their own sweet, silent way.

And in years to come, should I be asked, what my theatrical heart misses most,

I’ll answer softly: sweet memories and faded flowers, lest I should boast.

For time cannot wither what love keeps alive,

Friend’s flowers may wilt, but their precious memories will survive.

(A poem penned by Anthony Wayne Kalberg.)