The red petal

Lonesome Red petala piece of the treeis now fallen And freeBathed in theDew drops, pure as glassServed and protectedby loyal blades of grassIt retains its colourVivid and trueUnaware it’s fallenAnd would never be newIn decayIt glowsWhat it isIt showsIts fallenYet it remainsWith its colourthe mind it stainsSoon The petalwould cease to beDissolved in lifeno longerContinue reading “The red petal”

the word that describes me

if there was a wordthat describedwho I am it would arisefrom the abyssthat I am the unheard shoutthat, what will echois the one, I am the grossand the shadowthe light, I am whispering windthe cool breezethe fragrance, I am in the worldI have become dirty otherwise, pure I am A word that meansa word thatContinue reading “the word that describes me”