23 January 2013

You start as a green stud. But grow, change is on it's way. You're outgoing with a bud, No, you won't be a bouquet.

Purple majesty Delightful aroma Soft, silky petals, Yet you're in a coma.

Buzzing conffetti flies away With your yellow food. Breeze makes you dance and play, You're real, we can conclude.

Girls pick away at you, Boys trample you down. Even so, you stay strong, But you have to turn brown.

The dreaded time has come. Chilly winds blow in. Sadly, you can't run, You wilter, you're dead, you're thin...

AprilMayJuneLife of a Flower • Opuss № I