by Luke Putz
Dead leaves lie upon the cold ground,
A reminder of time gone by,
Signs of an emotional wound,
Evidence our plant will soon die.
Damage is clear for all to see,
Like the wind, words have left their sting,
Love wilts. Was this not meant to be?
Will this turn to another fling?
But wait. Petals still bloom afresh!
Our love still clings to life fervent
And will not wilt. Our love's still mesh
And lives if you are observant.
Do not forsake our love just yet!
Pruning is just a growing chance,
Love's an eternal covenant,
Lasting promise, intertwined dance.
No comments:
Post a Comment