There’s a lily on the water,
Slowly withering away.
Such a vital element forgot her,
Regardless of what some might say.

There is terror in all the sleek,
Calmly floating –cool, cool blue–
As she withers I turn the other cheek,
For what else can you or I do?

Pretty lily– were once so white,
You’re much too frail to survive.
The sun is now too hot and it’s too bright,
The closer that death will arrive.