How can I live this life, so dreary,
Without him, my rose, my sanctuary.
Once, he blowed a dandelion in the air,
To wish upon it he didn't dare.
He's a rose; but he'd wish he's not
Oh what little time he got.
Why do some withers so soon?
While others last, and bloom?
He'd wish he was a weed instead,
That will stand the whirling winds
The winds are the most unfair,
They'll sweep him and leave him bare.
Upon that dandelion, he'd like to make a wish,
But he's afraid he's already leashed
To the withering petals of his soul,
He knew that wish wouldn't keep him whole.
YOU ARE READING
Blue Fairytales
PoesiaLife is a fairytale, with pages in various hues. Some are in bright, happy colors; some are just in blue. But each one is worth reading, even those in gloomy, crumpled pages. Because those stories crumpled by hardships contain life's greatest lesson...
