Story of My Life
The story of my life, empty, a vase
filled with wilted flowers; leaving a trail
passing by slowly like a swollen snail;
extracted, drawn firmly upon my face.
Echoes of age with such depth of your love
written within dreams, a-dream built on bricks
I've been clinging on so tight as time ticks;
all lie with crowns of stones, leaves clinch above.
Once, the story of my life with grand sprays
of bloom, now taken by wind through a maze.
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2019