• nifemi 9w

    What if I'm all but a dying flower?
    So withered that it's beauty is hidden,
    Swaying not so gracefully as soft breeze blows,
    I was proud and elegant once,
    Let a gentle flood wash my petals down to someplace lovely,
    Remind me of youth as my roots rots,
    I know I won't be missed forever but I hope this moment truly counts,
    Now and always,
    Martha "rose".