Change Poem by Meena Iyer

A whorl slowly unfurls
blooms,
The queen of the garden dances,
With the libertine wind
All day.
Lily of may
Soon the crimson skies turns gray
And the morning sun fades
She crumbles,
Back to dust, she rusts

Thought flowers of today
Perish,
In the dawn of future
As new flowers bloom
A new day replaces
The night's gloom
dispelling cobwebs of past
This too might not last
change is eternity
And time steadfast