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Zainab

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since June 2013
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The Flower

June 19, 2013
Calmly Silently Slowly Reaching over the stillness To grab the one thing left In a field of death and decay A gamut of greys and browns Grip tightens Pull up The dull snap resounds in the empty field Cradling the only color that was Bring it up and inhale Sweet smells cascade the brain Embark on a sweet journey Surround the pink with cold hands Flowers lying dead underneath grey bodies Silently slithering over destruction Clutching the life of the valley Knuckles white, unwilling to lose the precious cargo The sun’s warmth returns When finally the flower tastes true earth Rain falls again Stinging sensations once missed return Slowly the world turns again Enthusiastically Loudly Quickly
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