Slowly,
Ever slow.
We can't see them grow but they do.
Slow,
Inch by inch.
Beauty.
They're beautiful.
Slowly,
Prettier and prettier.
Their beauty is in what they give off,
In how they help,
Everyone wants them near,
We hold them so very dear,
For they give off what we need,
The time we need it most,
But when they are taken from us,
We see that we did nothing for them while alive,
It was all they did for us,
It sucks that we don't know,
But God does pluck all the beautiful flowers first.
YOU ARE READING
The Roads Taken
PoetryLife is a series of trials and errors, One would like to say that we're perfect but we aren't. Humans are the only species to be perfectly imperfect, the imperfections that we dwell on in ourselves and in others tends to be the ones connected with t...
