Flourish and Forshaken
Standing on a bridge, gazing at a tree,
Admiring its beauty, a soft smile forming on my lips.
The red flowers bloom like delicate whispers,
The only attire the tree wears, as its leaves have long since faded.
But as time flows, the flowers, too, will bid farewell,
Leaving the tree bare, unseen, forgotten.
No one will stop to admire it anymore,
No one will be enchanted by its beauty.
And once again, solitude will embrace the tree,
As it silently accepts its fate.
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