Time is passing
gently
measured by the wilting,
by the sweetness of decay
and by colors fading.
Time is leaving
step by step
by lovers clinging
to the scent
preserved as bookmarks
in books forgotten.
Time will stop
by flowers tethered
tightly into wreaths.
The Quadrille this week hosted by De at dVerse is written to the word of flowers.
February 10, 2026
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Simply gorgeous, Björn.
Thank you 🙂
nice one, Björn
Thanks for dropping by my blog
much love
Thank you 🙂
Love that “tethered tightly.” Beautiful, Bjorn.
Thanks
Delicious and gorgeous, Björn.
Thank you so much
The middle stanza imagery is perfect…those petals pressed between pages.
Thank you… my thought on flowers went to all the decay and death though
A beautiful melancholy.
Yes… I always find flowers a bit melancholic unless they are living in the wild or a garden
I really like the last stanza.
Thank you
Time measured in the wilting and decay of flowers. Beautifully done, Björn. Hope you’re feeling better!
A lot better now… I’m on for the OLN.
Great news!
The first and last word in each verse are perfect wrappers for each. A pleasure to read.
Thank you and a great observation
This is poignant, Bjorn. It makes me feel an ethereal sadness.
Sadness perhaps, but reality more.
I like the wordplay on the title. The repetition of time and how it shifts by its nature is well-done here. A cycle ends when the wreathe is cast onto the compost heap, to begin again.
Indeed… that was my intention… those flower budding on the grave perhaps.
This is beautiful!!! Thank you so much for sharing. I found your blog via a comment you made on another blog. You said that you are a lover of Winter! I also love Winter!
Warm greetings from Montreal, Canada.
Great… maybe we can meet at dVerse where there are many poet sharing their poetry….
the measure of time… I see it in your words and the genius of the image of the clock and flowers. Lovely. thanks
As I am approaching a decade birthday at the end of this hear, your poem has a real connection to me.