Flower

what a thing it must be, to be grown for beauty; to attract // to serve
the purpose of catching an eye, turning a head, inviting a smile // existing and
subsisting with the sole intention of brightening and blooming, even when rudely plucked from the whole // looking at you, I feel all of my plans quite abandoned; sure that I shall live my life forevermore with roots extended and drink my fill – face to the sun // and dissolve.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *