I'm not flame if you don't come.
I'll consistently grow old
and quietly die out
if your eye doesn't pick me.
willing to be fertile for you,
lay itself down, offering juice and aroma.
I walk on the way from the tip of grass to the moon high
now drifting on water and then in dire straits
or stuck in a tree
You should come to save me.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Strawberry by East Sea Fairy East Sea Fairy )
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