Pink are your petals and green is your stem.

On the water you stand, tall and swaying.

In your petals you guard a golden gem.

And above you the clouds have been graying.

The birds are quiet, and the fish are still.

All is quiet, but it won't be for long.

It starts to rain and the birds start to trill.

When do you realize something is wrong?

The wind picks up. It screams, whistles, and shouts.

The flower is gone, without any doubt.