Me: The Delicate Flower

I am fragile.
A delicate flower,
yet not a flower at all.
There are no roses on my cheeks,
nor do I have golden hair.
Raven is my mane,
my face, pale.
Water rolls off my petals all the time,
forever dewey and sublime.
People never stomp on me,
but I know they want to,
while the wind whispers it’s rhyme.

*This is one that I wrote a while ago…around Christmastime last year. It is going to be published soon.

Advertisement

~ by mywordsturnedpink on July 21, 2009.