It wouldn’t matter to you
when I stand and watch,
a meek flower fall it’s way through
in the pattering of the rainfall.

What might the flower be feeling?
Was she happy? or dismal for her end.
perhaps did she dreamed
To birth fruits of her own.

Was she ready to take the fall?
Was she ready to give it her all?
Or did her dreams falter her
and ended up lost so far.