I know it's a little...simple. But it popped into my head and I had to write it down.
Flowers by a Bedside
There's flowers by the table side.
the petals had long wilted,
their lingering aroma dissipating in stagnant air,
leaving only tough skeletons.
Now only the waning Sun,
cast the embers of life back on the blooms.
So slowly they drifted from the table,
to lay upon the cold linoleum.
And as the clouds rolled on the horizon,
the world still spun on axis.
The blooms had hidden from sight,
to shroud themselves.
They were once a single entity,
now they lay scattered,
too old to find one another
too brittle to revere hope.
The light flickered away,
and they silently slumber
in the coffin of fragility.
Never seen, but abandoned forever.
But morning went and came again.
They were gathered and left neatly in a bowl,
to watch the machinations of the world around.
Hoping for eyes to open, that never will.
