The Complaint of a Flower and Her Vase
Am I a flower so ready withering
That thou must cast thy judgment fair?
Or doth my position portray
Porcelain prepared for the kiln?
You pluck me before my petals develop
A’ fore sun’s sweet secrets I share.
How fast I, Pottery, am fired
My glaze has become bedimmed film.
©Evangeline Schultz - 2013
👁 1💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.