Vanity
The leaves leave their pretty jade,
as colors of my eyes fade.
When every Spring solemnly descents,
My sight gets another shade.
For what am I made?
Living every day to bloom or daze!
And flipping sides to fit new space,
I borrow their jade to paint my face!
I suck away their lush mellow,
They curse me for a million days.
I smirk at them, I laugh for days,
They stare at me in scornful ways.
The leaves cry in rumbling ache
But that's how I hide my case;
I giggle and wiggle in glooms of garden,
While trees of Spring burn in blaze.
The jade in me over dreadful yellow,
deep inside, I feel guilt bellow.
I choose it not over the victory made;
the stolen jade was gift of wade!
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