Flower

Flower, I pick it up to smell it, Not knowing the scent is forever gone, For it's 
beauty still remains, I put it back in a safe place, Keeping it from being 
demolished, But ponder on why, Why it's so easy to lose something, But so hard 
to get off your mind, Flower, So easily  broken, Yet the best one's take forever to 
find, Why do their beauty's eventually die?
Copyright © | Year Posted 2006

Poem

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