Every passing day
Every starlit night
Every unspoken syllable
Every beckoning light
I feel myself blowing away
Like delicate petals
In ferocious wind
Each puff, each blow,
Every wad of cash
Every plant, every powder
Much more like blowing trash
-V.W.
YOU ARE READING
Violets are Blue
RandomViolet Wellingshire is a beautiful and talented poet. After struggling with a substance abuse problem and one life-threatening trip to the hospital, Violet decides that things have to change. With the help of her family, an adventurous blonde hippy...
