Pressing FlowersA Poem by Madison.The flowers are pressed upon the page Your fingers brush the brittleness. Careful before they crumble. See the pollen they
left upon the paper? Their mark of proof of life. Plucked In hopes and dreams to preserve their beauty, never again did they
know the glorious dark of the earth, never again to see
their brightly colored friends, to hum in harmony
with the breeze, never again to live after death. Never again to be kissed and supplemented by the sun's harsh and graceful beams. © 2014 Madison. |
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Added on October 22, 2013 Last Updated on July 29, 2014 Author |