Unfortunately

Our love is a potted plant we've placed
Upon a window sill. It never got too
Large or lush, but I, as water, you, as
Light, have kept the tiny thing alive.
Now, someone's come and closed
The curtains. Little light can filter
In, and our poor plant has started
Dying. Soon, it will be gone.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 67 times
Written on 2015-09-21 at 21:13

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