We all seem to forget
That nothing lasts forever
Cry for those fallen flowers
Petals light in the breeze
Flowing
Until they reach their destination
To decompose
To be reborn
The sweetest scent
The sharpest thorn
I found the precious things appear
Less relevant when they are near
A table
A chair
A silverware set
A stone
A letter
Something less complex
What makes these little things so special
A name attached
An orchid’s petal
Why does death hit harder those
Whose name was more than just a rose
Your name is strong
Not of a coward
And now you rest amongst the flowers
A killer to the blade that kills
A song of somber daffodils
A lonely man clutching his pills
A handgun on the windowsill
Another day trapped in a dream
Some nightmare this reality seems
It’s safe to say and without vanity
That those who hear may save some sanity
The things we love they come and go
They leave us in a place of woe
They hurt us but they surely show
The value of those precious hours
I pray that you don’t name your flowers
About the Creator
Matt Rivera
I like writing poetry and jokes.
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Instagram : the.riv.era
Twitter : Rivera_M97
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