12 February 2013
It pains me to see, Your withering leaves. So slightly, your drooping stems, No longer reaching towards heaven.
It pains me to watch, As your soil dries up. The once brilliant, rosetting blooms, A past memory, so very soon.
Too soon.
It pains me to know, That you may no longer grow. An empty space, devoid of your splendor, your glory, Is it the end of the story?
It pains me to see, Your absent vitality. Yet I know, in a dream, In a better place, You and I, Will sometime be.
Together.
Decomposing • Opuss № I