Under The Street Light

Under the street lamp
By its wrought iron post
Wilting flowers sit
Unattended
In a waterless glass jar
Someone placed them there
To be seen up close
And from afar
During the daily grind
No one seems to care
That they were left for us
To remember and to remind
But at night when walking by
Some still cry while others sigh
No one has additional
words to add or to say
After all, the wind
will soon blow even
The last stubborn petals away