Flowers

They sit in a vase-
Beauty meant to be enjoyed,

But at some point they will
Wither.

Now they are just a bulk of brown
Once enjoyed, but now

Pointless.

Petals on the table.
Where is the garbage when you 
Need it.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2011

Poem

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Mehta Avatar
April 8, 2011 at 6:21 AM
You are right, such is the life and such is the fate of the faded beauty, Ashley. Wordsworth says the same thing in a different way, pluck not the flowers they are a traveler's delight.
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