The Flower

When it dried out, it was thrown away! Why?
Because it tainted? As life left the matter…
The decaying hull gave off it’s smell,
and infested the world outside.
The nourishing water got staled.
Because the lack of life means passing?
And passing means oblivion?
When I perk up and think about it,
I’m always sad, searching, confused…
Searching for the marks,
the fallen branches.
But the springs have grown againg,
between the shrubs, up the skies,
to dress the nature,
with pride and beauty.
The colors are smiling,
but the feelings are missing,
passions badly coupled.
I’m repainting the picture around myself, erasing faults,
and try to reinvent, life’s best scenery.

back