How soon the flowers wilt.
Wasn’t it just yesterday
you planted them, just an hour ago
there were mounds of bloom
shining in the rain?
You want to believe there’s a flower
that never stops opening,
want to believe that flower
is you.
October 23, 2017 by Rosemerry
How soon the flowers wilt.
Wasn’t it just yesterday
you planted them, just an hour ago
there were mounds of bloom
shining in the rain?
You want to believe there’s a flower
that never stops opening,
want to believe that flower
is you.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged aging, poem, poetry, truth | Leave a Comment
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