The white petals

With yellowish center

Feel so tender

With every touch

Broken from roots

By the storm

Still they shine

Like no other kind

Lying on the floor

Made of crimson

But still some

Are unable to see

The beauty lying

Beneath their feet

Stepping on those

White petals

With a

Yellowish center

I picked one up

Kept it in my pocket

To see how long

This sweet thing could last

It wasn’t much long

Till it started to rot

But memory of it remained

In my head

And in my heart…


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