Stemmed

A requested poem, I had only 40 minutes to complete, so no editing or re-writing has been done as yet.

There, She stands amongst the carnage.
Knowing her friends are slowing falling.
Embers, soaring, almost burning.
Her leaves are slowly turning brown.

Time, is passing oh so slowly.
Silent, against the demon's roaring.
Slowly, coming slightly closer.
As giants are falling all around.

Now, She fades, begins to wither.
Helpless, kneeling in the dirt.
Her life of gorgeous scented highlights.
Is gone, as she begins to drown.