Illusion

Artificial flowers lay bestrewn
in parody of everlasting life,
their garish petals stark on bed of leaves
which nature had but lately disinterred
from some dark corner of the undergrowth
to make a bed on which their heads might rest.

Of all the graveyard epitaphs on view
these spoke to me the loudest by their silence...

See more floral tributes, perhaps, over at The Mag, thanks to Tess.
And more poetry of all kinds at d'Verse Open Link Night