By Judith Viorst
One by one the petals drop
There's nothing that can make them stop..
You cannot beg a rose to stay..
Why does it have to be that way?
The butterflies I used to chase..
Have gone off to some other place..
I don't know where. I only know
I wish they didn't have to go..
And all the shiny afternoons..
So full of birds and big balloons..
And ice cream melting in the sun Are done.
I do not want them done..