After-bloom

From some angles, the half-wilted bloom
held a certain charm.
It was, perhaps, attention centered there.
Or, was it movement, responding to the stir,
the air, however briefly turned that way?

One moment passing quickly in time's span,
when the half-faded blossom shows its grace,
and passes, bowing to the stem that held it high.
It's but a moment in the path of life
where fading, like the twilight afterglow,
holds charm, in part, the past and part, the now.