Monday, June 16, 2014

Dead Flowers, 12.25.13


Crushed and broken in my hand
Dried leaves crackle
I look in despair
At what I have destroyed
Their colors faded
Nothing compared to their former glory
Green, perhaps?
A dirty grey.
The ferns of an old bunch of roses

The flowers hardly better
Red turned to brown and black
Beautiful in their way
But nothing compared to their former glory