A flower blooms

Dancing in the wind

And gracefully tumbling to the ground

The beautiful white petal spinning,

Like a ballerina in the sky

Whirling and twirling towards Mother Earth,

Where it once sprouted from the soil,

So long ago, it seems, was the flower a child,

Blossoming in the fresh spring atmosphere,

Pushing its way up from the underground.

But now, the journey is complete.

The white ballerina forever tainted with the stains of death.