Fragile

The flowers are fragile,
  they lasted but a few days
And are now gone by.
  opening feeble petals
To fall in sprays on the
  ground, dead, gone by.
Their beauty is in the
  color, the smell, delight
To the eyes, they are
  but a moment enjoyed.
Such brief beauty in
  such a delicate form.
It does not lay down
  it's life in brevity,
But in the pure joy
  of having given life.