What Am I

I wrote it for a poetry contest...plz rate and review

What am I...I asked myself,
I was once the fragrance of flowers,
I was the only hope he had,
but now he does not even recognize me,
am I not what I was before,
am I not the fragrance of flowers,
or the only hope he had,
at least not for him anymore.
Now, I am a wrinkly old woman,
sitting up in her wheel chair,
I know why I am not what I was before.
My woes to those who believe,
and know what they are.
I was just a soft breeze,
which left everything untouched,
the leaves did not know me,
and what a fool I was,
to think that I had conquered the world,
and yet I have nothing left of my own.