There is a daisy on my window sill.
It never loses a petal.
Never grows.
.
.
.
One day there flies a seed through my open window.
A dandelion grows beside the daisy.
They talk
silent
but noticeable.
They grow.
.
.
.
One day the daisy is dead.
Pedals lying around , like a shrine.
Like a last prayer.
.
.
.
But the daisy stays dead
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
○•○
There is a dandelion on my window sill.
It never loses petals.
Never grows.
YOU ARE READING
Before you Sleep
PoetryThis is a gift for you I want to invite you. Take a look inside my mind. Maybe it helps keeping your thoughts from running wild. Maybe ist shows you that we all break sometimes and that is fine. Maybe it gives you some sort of relieve before going t...
