Where are these petals taking me?
I could smell each piece
Sharp as shattered mirror
Splinters on my skin
Drowning in crimson
Clothed in purplish silk
All in oblivion
For night knows no color
But the void of itself
The petals go back
To the tree of nostalgia
Flowers under the shade
Aren’t eager to be picked
So they wither over years
In the harsh winter days
Reddish, golden, brown
Like the sunset rays
The petals fall
Because they’re weary
They lose their hold
And their beds await their rest
As many have flown
Carried by the breeze
I caught their scent
And held them in my fist
Again, I ask
Where are these petals taking me?
Evelyn Dumag-Gabinete
This is the #potd #poem of the day.
I would love to write a poem for you. See how.
Just Evelyn 