The whispers of wind
caress my face
with the tips of my fingers,
I trace
little buds of a daffodil
beam up at me
like rays of sun,
so much glee
with a smooth twist of fingers
the sound of a snap,
it lingers
in the palm of hands
it's body lays
lifeless, so frail
the sweet scent flows
running through my nose
spring is fading
the peace decaying
goodbye little friend
your time,
has reached an end.