Sweet death

After spring there are many Jacaranda flowers
that lies purple at my feet,
while the trees shed
their beautiful blossoms.

Like the sweet blooms
that die,
I know that I
have but a short time
to spent in this life.

There’s a sweet perfume
that rises from the road
where the scattered flowers lie,
before it disappears
with the new rain

and I wonder if my words and deeds
will be a blessing for a time
when I am gone?

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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