Why the Wilted Flower Sang to the Sun

Who to hear? Who to

ask why? When her head tilted 

between earth and sky.  

The wilted wretch breathlessly 

rolled her die towards 

the gleam of the setting sun.  

And there was no-one

but she who could not sigh, nor 

a vaporous tear 

to spring from her eye, knew the

day had just begun.

It was not the grass who had 

his heart trod upon.

Nor was it the wind that shook 

through her stance.  She rolled 

her die for another chance.

Reviews

[Linear]

Thats one sad and lonely flower, seeking to run from the midnight hour, loved this poetic expression

[Phill Oz O'fee]

Something always dies; to allow a ‘Born Again’ happenstance!
Creative piece ... nice work!

Phil

[deeps]

I enjoyed this write, desriptive and wonderful.