The petals settle on the bed,
withering away while laying silent.
Scrambling to end the agony,
dashing sprinkles from the vase,
nothing left but a trace
of the rosy-reddish designs.
Handprints become non-existent
after the baptism of the petals
in the scent of their aroma.
Flowers sail throughout the funnel.
Perch yourself like doves,
leaving the design traceable
with the fragrance of a rose.
Frantic is not the active
approach to ending the misery.
Slow, gentle, rubbing, and massaging
petals with romance leads to disappearance.
The foyer holds their once existence.
Examine the rosy-reddish
designs of the fingerprints.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
10++++ full of emotion i like it, i have one called lost check it out i think you'll like it. keep writing.....