This poem is about reality in one's life.


Flowers


When buds start turning into flowers
and children into adults, everything smells of
cleanliness and faith in good and happiness,
as if the beauty could not
vanish and the sun would not
dry the radiant ewe drops,
and the wind would not blow the dust onto petals.
And the next starry night will
bring a new hope in beauty and peace.
While the new day, maybe, a storm.




Poetry by Dejan
Read 468 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 15:14

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