Sweet Death Poem by Gert Strydom

After spring there are many Jacaranda flowers
that lies purple at my feet,
while the trees shed
their beautiful blossoms.

Like the sweet blooms
that die,
I know that I
have but a short time
to spent in this life.

There’s a sweet perfume
that rises from the road
where the scattered flowers lie,
before it disappears
with the new rain

and I wonder if my words and deeds
will be a blessing for a time
when I am gone?