Is It Poetry
Love Before Dying - Poem by Is It Poetry
Butterflies look through the window,
and where each has been long never, absent.
The sky is the room where it opens,
and the odor of the rose with their wings open.
Why it is closed it steals my breath.
Experience and love before dying.
Having come for the seconds is time.
There where we played once as children,
and some along the path we have lost.
It is the rose.
Open fields where they grow.
The field is full of life green the grass.
And when it turns brown some are lost.
Attention to them most you pay,
and the thorns of pain are removed.
The lattice it does, bring them confront.
Although alive the butterfly it fades fast.
Being able to bore through the hole.
It flies to the sun across open water,
to soon the day ends and the flowers.
Beauty has again reawakened,
and beauty paused, I stopped, very suddenly.
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