Red rose,
In the middle of the garden.
Admired and taken care,
Bloomed beautifully,
Spreading fragrance to its surrounding,
Attracting tiny butterflies and those little bees.
It was happy,
Seeing friends coming for company,
Everyday,
Till its petals fell
One by one,
And its honey dried out.
Soon,
It became ugly.
And weak.
And old.
None of its friends came.
Those tiny butterflies and little bees,
Were visiting lilies and daffodils now.
And they were happy.
The Red Rose was lonely,
And broken,
And it died slowly,
Alone.
Gone and forgotten.
-Eve Jeff.
YOU ARE READING
GRIM
Poetry→Sometimes a piece of paper is a better companion← ☔☔☔☔☔☔☔☔☔☔☔☔☔ • A collection of gloomy and sad poems/quotes by me. •All works are mine. Any similarities are purely coincidence. • Started 19 September 2017 Highest Rank ⭐ #201 in POETRY - Oct 21st...
