Magnolia

I watch a thousand petals of magnolia
shower onto the earth.
I hear a song in the back of my mind,
when the singer's voice was young.
He has died and he has been buried.
My loneliness has also grown old,
once decorating a brilliant pink tree
in a desolate and dry spring.

I walk in the many voices of daffodil,
I hear the wind ask of me,
Give me what must let go.
My roots, I understand,
will be nourished by this waning lament.