Bedlam

The petals, pulled.

He loves me.

He loves me not.

The stem is wet

Dripping with the dew of sacrifice.

The leaves, green pillows.

Softened by the sedative of release.

We "flourish" after the rainfall.

When children pick us

For their mommies.

And the sun-

beats on our core.

All around we keep from them.

Grabbers, pickers, mowers.

We sit, to be toiled.

Our petals, weary.

Forgotten in the fall.

We die. 

Orange and red.

We die.

Reviews

[alifeacoustic]

A beautiful wistful look at the seasons of our life. flourish, thrive, droop and wilt. Our essence portrayed in so few words. I really enjoyed this. Thank you.

[Cat]

Thank you!

[alifeacoustic]

You're welcome.