Slip Into Darkness Poem by Steffi Webster

The good intentions of the flowers
Lie withered on my desk,
The leaves and petals falling
Like whispers and tears of
Promises on my lazy ambition,
Given with good will of own volition.
Rose once proudly raised its head
And lived by flow of ink now
Hangs, stem broken, like
Cut off prose that no longer
Instantly flows. The leaves
Have died and shrivelled
To dust to collect in the
Corners and coat the
Books never opened with
Good intent but so easy
To relent. The purpose of
Gift so sworn and sincere
Now dies on the lips of
The giver. The lover will
Find another. The red rose
Heart fades to grey day
By day and withers
Away.