POEM: The End of the Bouquet

The bouquet begins full,
each flower shouting out 
its joy in a cacophonous 
celebration of life energy.
Red!  Green!  Purple!  Pink!  Yellow!
Curls!  Lushy lengthy limbs!  
Spins and twirls and dazzledy-do! 

But I prefer the end – 
after some have drooped 
and brown-edged their stinky 
way to the compost heap
and only a few remain.  This 
morning it is a late blooming white
lily
now proudly alone 
in a perfect holding vase
cut afresh and drinking fresh water
petals wide open as if to speak
but silent.
I sit
after the morning storm 
of hurried leave-taking,
taking in her elegant
serenity.  

I welcome your thoughts: