Artificial Flowers
Of finding passion and truth
Pitter-patter sings the pouring rain
softly tapping at my window pane.
My room shadowed shades of gray--
except my artificial flowers, colors gay.
In the center a red, red Rose;
plucked from my garden, my garden knows.
It's feathery petals caress my skin,
pensively stroking against my chin.
Sulky, mulct from my illusions;
the sailing moon wouldn't shine tonight,
by my conclusions.
Melodic music drifting in...
pitter-pattering against the wind.
Opened my window peering deep,
deep into perilous night--
dark and endless without moonlight.
Lightning, thunder streaked the sky...
sheets of rain like curtains wry.
Artificial flowers amidst a Rose,
trying to be real, to soothe my woes.
But none can be the Rose, for it's beauty never dies...
For its honest truthfulness never lies.
About the Creator
Cindy Ramos
A poet, short story writer and illustrator.
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