Elegy Of Wasted Flowers

Death is not a poetry I wrote or a picture I painted;

 it's a thought I had, a reason why many fainted. 

Glimpses of the living come with their demise; 

many flowers are wasted when someone dies. 

Flowers, which could have sewn a casket, are now being used to show emotions. Tears shed so many, they could rival the oceans.

 The loss of a presence that many felt, no matter the reason; their heart did melt.

 If death was a poetry, I would write a cemetery,

 admirable painting, such an artistry.

 But alas, it's a thought I had, wasted flowers, tears that could rival the oceans, a remorseful facade.