Why are the plants dying?

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The rain is relentless,
Every day the puddles fill
With muck and old newspapers,
Stories refusing to settle and fly away.
The leaves grow yellow, like
Overripe pears, waiting to burst
Into a sugary mess, tired of
Waiting for the strong, fearless sun
To show up and clear the suffocating moss.

Flowers wither to the ground,
Without a choice; broken hearts
Unaware of where they went wrong.
Seeds refuse to come forth; days wasted
In a stern, cold hope, but nothing changes.
I sit here in the park, feet lifted away
From the ground; dirty feet enter
Homes, no, I will not be so irresponsible.

The boys play football in the green grass,
I wish I too could do that.
But I still don't understand,
Why are the plants dying?

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