For those who have witnessed a passing

Each time it happens, it happens,
It happens in the same way.

Embroidered filigree dried lace petals of hydrangea,

So, soft.

Solo fall from me, falling, and as they fall,
Fall away in fine weights.

Iridescent fish scales float down gently on bat wings,

So, silent.

And reveal a lesser me, a less me,
Lessened to something that has never been.

A shrinking chimera in a pellucid carapace,

So, sad.

Another brush of oils, brushes by,
By your leave, it is brushed on by.

Those crafters of exquisite decoration gifted to us,

So, gifted.

The colours on the palette turn,
Turning to pallid, paler shades.

On the painters of permanent silk rainbows on our skins,

So, loved

And each time they happen to pass,
It happens the same way.

Another realm of radiance sinks into the sunset.
Another bouquet drifts off on the winds of time.
Another harmony folds and moulds away into cloud.

Never to be heard again,

Outside of our minds.

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