Premature Dignity Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Woodenly bursting at the sight of beauty,
watching it closely, knowing soon it will die.

Suffocating the center of breath with the
powder of nightfall, covering all minds with
tainted dust of yesterday.

Sideways, slipping in between sheets of
bygone days, hoping and praying for respite
from the rain of stormy suffering.

Altogether, the most poignant observations
ever made have faded dimly in our modern sight.

Falling below the premature dignity of another's
calling, we slowly walk away, shoulders drooping.

Beauty woodenly meeting our eyesight, knowing it
will die tonight.