The dying flower
There was love in the room.
It was the laughter in the rain.
With nearly broken legs, it kept its pride.
And bloomed and walked towards the heights.
With petals of white and its invisible crown
My flower flew in the night of blissful hopes.
Oh I wish time was my friend.
So I could rewrite the story in the end.
But sadly 't was my ignorance that I met.
To travel back in time and space.
Only to face my flower dying again.
Comments about this poem (The dying flower by Herant X.. )
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