Flower Poem by Kyle Richards
Flower
Flower surrounded by lava,
All I see of late,
Passing through my eyes,
That gate,
Allowing only memories by,
And I ask myself why?
Why don’t these memories die?
Why do these feelings cry,
Out to myself in the dark,
Making crude gestures, devil’s mark,
And yet all I see of late,
Is that flower,
Surrounded by hate.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
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4/20/2024 12:48:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
