Remember that vibrant, beautiful yellow rose?
That you gave to me on our first date.
Before it lost all its beauty,
I trapped it,
pressed it between the dark pages of
my favourite book.
Where it slowly became a;
faded,
crushed,
frail,
broken version,
of its former self.
What I did to that rose,
because I wanted to keep it forever,
is
what your love did to me.
Tara Schley
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem