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My Flower
October 7, 2015
Love is like a flower in winter,
it's constantly fighting for survival.
Who will take care of this flower through the cold days?
Who will nuture it,
give it water and sunlight?
Everytime the flower starts blooming again
Another storm comes
and the poor lonely flower
closes up again.
Eventually the little flower will die
and the remains will blow away.
I sometimes go to the spot where my flower would grow and blossom.
But now there's nothing there.
All that remains are the memories of the flower.
All there will ever be is
Memories.
© Lindsay T., Vernon, TX
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What inspired me to write this poem is love. All around me there are beautiful couples, and even though I know they have problems and sometimes may not work out. But there was always love.