Poetry by Kat

Flower Vase

There was a flower vase in the hall.
It stood proud, yet not very tall.
It was beautiful, painted in silver and gold,
It stood there throughout the year, even in cold.

There was a flower vase in the hall.
It's still stood proud, yet still not tall.
A boy placed a flower inside.
He left it there until the flower died.

There was a flower vase in the hall.
It stood a little less proud, still not tall.
Two more boys brought flowers without asking.
The flowers had thorns that left behind cracks.

There was a flower vase in the hall.
It struggled to stand proud, it wasn't very tall.

More boys.More Flowers.More cracks.

Cracks left scars, unable to be healed as they ran deeper than any promise ever could.

One boy brought a rose, one to match the vases colours of red, silver and gold.
He promised not to leave it there to die.
Yet the rose wilted and the boy did lie.

There was a flower vase in the hall

It stood ashamed.

It was small.

The vase couldn't hold anymore of the boys flowers. It shattered like a broken heart.
Pieces of faded china and beautiful lies strewn on the floor. The wilted flowers laid there too.
Flowers like empty promises.
Flowers that once were full of life, full of love.

The vase was unable to be fixed.
Nobody helped clean up the mess.
They left it there on the ground alone. There's no longer a flower vase in the hall.

There was a flower vase in the hall.
It used to stand proud. Yet not very tall.
It's wasn't beautiful anymore, fragments painted in silver and gold, it laid there for a whole year, forever broken, forever cold.