One can't resist the feeling of helplessness when they see something they love slip away.
Watching, as it walks away, right out of your life.
The flower, found in the field of weeds begins to wither away.
Passing by without hesitation.
Without taking a second glance at the past, moves on to a new beginning.
Will that flower ever find its way back to the place which it was found?
The chances fade away, like sand gripped too tightly in the hand.
Blowing away in the wind.
Never to be seen again.
No comments:
Post a Comment