Autumn Blossom Poem by Ibn Ali

There was a time,
When you were young,
When everyone that saw, succumbed,
You'd walk a path and leave a trail,
The scent of which would light ablaze,
Though non would win all hearts would race,
She thought this time immortal age,
When all the vultures swirled and preyed,
And non the wiser she to they,
She could have had her pick of men,
Have them cast lots and choose who wins,
She pouts and smiles,
They smirk and grin,
She thought this time would never end,

Then came a time where wrinkles wretched
Desecrated every crevice,
Grey hairs came in ones and twos,
Then each year after tens and twenties,
Men would have paid what they could ill afford,
That, although, was way before,
Now they'd pay the world and more just to spare themselves the thought,
You loved your youth,
Overly indulgent,
But it's now that you feel death's incumbence,
Would that you had spent your time,
Doing less of what was ill advised,
You'd find yourself in better state,
Perhaps age with grace and firmer stride,
Instead you pleased your every whim
And picked and chose your choice of sin,
Past dreams fuel present woes,
It's worn you pale and thin,
And it reads an awful tale,
This sad look upon your face,

When you were the ripest fruit,
You didn't drop
So you weren't picked,
You resided in the tree,
Just out of arm's length reach,
As they jumped in leaps and bounds,
Your ego was fulfilled,
But when your hue changed from gold to brown,
Panic then ensued,
And when you fell and men walked by
Each one with fruit in hand,
Then you knew the reason why,
Now you understand,
Why winter spells the fall of leaves and summer's blossom's grand,
And only fools would pick and choose an autumn flowers love,
The beauty is too short lived and her scent is fading fast,
She should have stayed in layman's view and rose above the grass.