When our beauty fades away at last,

Then what is left of us?

All the petals falling in succession,

Rotting into dust?

The hoarded charm does nothing to

Last longer than the others;

In the end, its presence fades away

Unless there’s a beholder.

Perhaps this beholder lies

within our future offspring –

Or better yet, more floweret with

the impression that we bring.

When our beauty fades away at last,

Then what is left of us?

An imprint of ourselves upon

The ones we give our trust.