Here's the poem for a new story im making called
forgotten flowers
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In the garden of existence, fragile and unseen,
A wilted flower stands, its colors now serene.
Once vibrant and alive, with petals full of grace,
Now drooping and forlorn, a testament to life's embrace.
Each petal that now withers, a tale of battles fought,
Through storms and scorching sun, its resilience still sought.
For life is but a journey, a delicate dance of light,
Moments of blooming beauty and shadows of endless night.
Once praised by adoration, a symbol of pure delight,
The flower stood tall, casting dreams upon the night.
But time's relentless passage, it wears upon the soul,
And even the brightest blooms succumb to nature's toll.
Yet, in this wilted beauty, a story still resides,
Of love and loss and hope, in every tear that hides.
For within the folds of petals, secrets are concealed,
Whispers of a life lived, emotions so revealed.
Oh, wilted flower, you remind us of our own transient stay,
That even in our prime, we'll fade and drift away.
But take solace in your journey, in every ache you bear,
For even in your withering, your essence still declares.
A symbol of endurance, of strength in times of strife,
The wilted flower bows, yet retains its inner life.
And in the depths of memories, where beauty never fades,
Lies the essence of a person, within the soul's cascades.
So, let us not mourn the wilted, but celebrate the bloom,
For life's fragility teaches we're not meant to consume.
Instead, let us embrace the withering with tender eyes,
And honor the wilted flower, as its spirit truly flies.
