I Love The Blossoms That Withered Poem by Yasmin Khan

I love the blossoms that withered
Petals rived thrown to winds
Fragrances all palsied and shattered
Garden’s hopes drowned in chagrin
Dreams unripe and not mature
Their beauty diffused in blood and gore
Broken images rolled in rancor
Souls smashed, callously battered

I love the guitar with broken strings
Its fragmented symphony blown, pared
Like a hunted dove’s smashed wings
And songs with broken notes now nowhere
Airs that died before their charm was writ
‘Along a liquid sky’; candles blown out, bright and lit
A hundred stars plucked and thrust
Left smothering to laments, in dust