I didn't see him the first day,
Or the second.
It doesn't matter.
Who would want,
A wilted flower.
YOU ARE READING
Wilted
PoetryShe couldn't see him, But she was all he could see. Raw Poetry, by: Mae Ethlyn
Her
I didn't see him the first day,
Or the second.
It doesn't matter.
Who would want,
A wilted flower.
