Our Love is but a petal
falling gently to the ground,
bringing memories of a grander time
when it had first been found.

The ground around our flower
is colored with yesterdays,
memories of younger moments
and Love that somehow stays.

With a warmth that fills our hearts
we languish beneath fall skies,
searching for the answers
to all our aging whys.

Too soon a flower of beauty
becomes a wanton stem,
surrounded by petals of yesterday
the memories of when.

Though I may catch the petal,
replace it, I can not.
And so I gaze upon the tapestry,
of what was a barren spot.