Withering Flowers

White withering love

crimson with tears

shrivelled with age

come, bloom, revel in your splendour.

“No,” said the flower stubbornly

and stomped away.

To die in the garden

where it got the best sun.

“Fool,” whispered the winds

as they scooped up the petals

and threw its scent in the air.

Posted in Poetry.

10 Comments

  1. – says the girl with the emo profile pic :D. This is a sad poem but Saaleha made it funny.

    I vote for a happy poem, preferably something with stars, stars rock! The heavenly bodies not the celebrities.

  2. looooooollllll youre so noble! 😛 mmm love oroes too! i love oreo milkshake *sluurrpp*

    Bowl please! with wafer those chocolate swirly stick things please 😀

  3. aw, shucks, thats the way life is sometimes.

    Hamish Icecream is good for you.

    Saal, I can’t make happy right now. I tried.

    Zah: lol, i see you two enjoy chatting on my comments:)

  4. Yes 😀 Sufi love dust! *sprinkles more on you*

    No you can not- the sufi lovedust will elevate you naturally- none of this super consciousness lark!

    *big squishy hug back*

    Well stop it *hits you with a pencil* you think too much woman! Go out and smell the flowers or something!

    I love procrastinating- i have a diploma in it 😀 For some reason i have always loved the word “melancholy,” i think i fell in love with it after reading Shakespeares “12th night.”

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