The Waning Garden

We are in mourning for the
senseless loss of life in our beloved
garden. The tenderest of annuals
whose sprightly beauty gave us
so much summer pleasure, have
expired their season. Little did we
know the elements conspired a
sneak attack. Yes, the day before
had been brittle with unseasonable
cold, but the flowers and we
felt confident they would weather
the temperature plunge. Secure in
that knowledge, when dusk fell
they drowsed the rest of the virtuous
and so did we only to awaken with
dawn to the carnage of early frost.
Now the ipomea is shrivelled, the
begonias wilted and the impatiens
alas, have descended into the
apathy leading to death's door.
Unfair and brutal; we will remember
them as they were, in lively form.