CauseHow could it feel?

Little blossom

How could it feel?

murmured against your petals

furthermore, choked out you with words

not satisfactory enough to grasp.

Little blossom,

is it cold under the glass?

I keep thinking about whether you can recollect,

the dirt at your foundations,

the honey bees flourishing with your dust,

also, the sun encompassing you.

I see the veins in your petals,

do they drain like mine?

At the point when they cut you and squashed you,

did it snuff out your embodiment?

Behind your glass,

in your casing,

you'll see a larger number of days than I.

However I will live more minutes

than you at any point got the opportunity to.