Just For You Poetry

The green grass dies,
the flower fades;
death now comes in clumps,
mocking beauty made.

It waits with bated breath,
invisible to most;
it cares not who's the victim,
or unsuspecting host.

The grass is for a moment,
the flower's gone too soon;
the coyote howls at heaven,
the wolf cries at the moon.

Time is man's own master,
the clock runs out on him;
when the balance gets off-kilter,
and the eyes begin to dim.

The flower now is dying,
grass withers on the stalk;
and death becomes a shadow,
on the winters of my walk.

This is very pretty. I like the line - "on the winters of my walk." Nice.

The autumnal season even in death can still be very beautiful until the long shadows finally cover everything . I do hope this is only a metaphorical poem David ...

By all means...metaphorical!
Thanks for the comments Cindy and Stella.

Lovely and meaningful