Exploded,
Riotous colour,
Petals bright as sunshine,
Splashes of scarlet,
Run ragged
To the heart
Of the flower head.
Momentary beauty
For appreciation,
Soon to lose
It’s fresh bloom.
A living, dying flower.
Youthful and pretty,
Gasps of admiration,
Desirable, desired,
Daunted.
More than a moment
Passes.
Weeks, months, years,
Eternally beautiful
Inside.
Bloom withers
But
Soul survives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem Linsey, it's like a metaphor for life. Your body gradually withers but your soul remains youthful. Well done. Andrew 10!