Death taught Me

Free Verse Revolution : September Writing Prompt #3

If asked to a dead man,
why he needs all those flowers,
brought in for  the costly and
color coordinated funeral,
am sure he would blabber,
just like a mad man does when talked to-
that is if he could talk.
Like ants trailing, one behind the other,
men and women crawl with florals,
singular and plural.
What intentions hold their heart,
whilst those many colors are poured,
into a man who no longer needs them?
The pretty colors he cannot see,
and the beauty shall no longer entice him.
Their fragrance excites him no more,
and the soft petals will not soothe him.
With a body that soon shall be the earth,
and when the senses shall be home
to those many worms,
what purpose do these flowers hold?
All these were so clear from the start,
yet, I too dedicated florals to the dead.
But it took me one single thing to realize
that a dead man needs nothing-
let alone flowers-
and that is death itself.

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