Withering Flowers

Two friends, once fought,
Wrong both had committed;
Hurt one the other so bad,
By piercing a dagger deep.

Hit the other in place soft,
Vulnerable when he was;
Though no fault he had done,
She still felt hurt by him alas.

Returned the wound he did soon,
Vengeance for pain, he claimed;
Chased her out of their li’l home.
Never wanting to see her again.

Realized his mistake moments later,
Apologized to her, asked her back;
Welcomed her back to their home,
And resumed his life again on track.

Hurt she felt, never came back,
Decided that it wasn’t her home,
Forgot other friends, she did have,
Stayed away, in her own world.

Amid this fight, torn was another,
Losing both of its loved ones now,
Fight did the butterfly and the bee,
Leaving a flower to wither without love.

Poetry & writing to me are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

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