In the expanse of the skies,
Floating on a cloud,
I'm the dew, condensating
The juiciness around me.

Falling to the ground,
Hit sweet solid earth,
I'm the mud, sauteing
The minerals within me.

Nourishment to the flowers,
Travelling through frivrous veins,
I'm the sap, feeding
The petals that is me.

Crafting a mark,
For the reader's place,
I'm the book, squeezing
The flower - why me?

Placed as a flowery reminder,
In an old soul's family heirloom,
I am the bookmark, resting
On the memories that were me.