A Pressed Recollection
You used to be a felicitous flower¬
Attractive, as seen from the outer
People fantasized you from afar, oh why?
People loved to smell you up nigh.
Everyone was obsessed with you at any cost.
Remember how you were loved as a host?
From birthdays, anniversaries to one who mourns,
Simply desirable despite the thorns.
Now, time has come to it's turning point.
For you, the changes may disappoint
Your vibrant hue now hastily faded,
The red pigments now inevitably darkened.
The pretty flower, no longer admirable
Is now pressed in a book, under the table¬
Monochromatic¬ hidden as a memory
Of an untold and unremarkable history.
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