Chocolate and a flower bouquet,
Were given to me once,
On the day of my birth.

The bouquet held colors,
Of various shades and hues.
The chocolate,
rich and tasty,
Melted on my tongue,
And blinded me from reality.
It emanated value,
Like a work of art.

Too soon the flowers wilted,
Sad and unprepared,
And the chocolate became distasteful,
Like a fatigued ballad.

It was impossible to cling,
Onto the passing warmth and euphoria.
It was too late to reclaim,
The finished chocolate,
And the flowers I failed to bloom.

The high had passed,
Like a ceased fire.
And the time had escaped,
As truth would to a seeker.
I had lost my only chance,
At enjoying my most precious gift.