There Will Be No More Flowers
you finally decide to leave the garden
the grass are taller now
and the little flowers are drowned
there is nothing worth the keeping and the cultivating
the rains have becomes useless seasons
like the sun and its sunny days
now is the season of departure
the packing and letting things go
the trees wildly growing
the mud sticking and the stones silent
living with the moss and the rotten leaves
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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