It's misery
among the crushed roses
of a summer storm.
I never saw
the fragile petals fall,
merely their
lifeless form
helplessly on the ground.
I've learned
to brace myself
before I'm let down.
Only days of defeat remain,
all meaningful plans
and pleasant climes
have been left behind.
the slow and gradual cessation has commenced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I’m an avid gardener Uriah, and can feel your pain in this write. You wait an entire year to see your favourite blooms and then they’re destroyed by bug and weather my own roses as yet haven’t opened so I’m hoping they’ll be fine. Nice one.