Natural Death
Spires
topped with a canopy of clouds.
Glistening glass trunks.
Lifeless Leafless.
People
rushing in through underground trains
and up in the lifts.
Going up but never quite reaching the top.
The smell of after-rain
replaced by the smell of coffee.
The sound of photocopiers
and flipping papers
instead of the songs of birds and cicadas.
The flower blooms,
basks in the sunlight at the highest branch,
then falls.
Copyright ©
Zin Lim | Year Posted 2013
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