Most flowers cannot bloom int he darkness, love
that skill is saved for the evening primrose
your beauty is greater than it can grow
even if it is not something that you chose.
Just like the night flower, we too can bloom
the darkness of our hearts will surely pass
and like the rose we can escape this tomb
we can make sure our love will always last.
The flower blooms and then it fades away
a cycle doomed forever to repeat
the flower has no choice or any say,
darling you came and swept me off my feet.
We are a flower encased in pure gold
in me, you will always have a hand to hold.
About the Creator
Leigh Schilling
My name is Leigh
I am a conundrum
I write to understand
Keep reading
More stories from Leigh Schilling and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.