three month old roses

still lingering in their vase

brown withered petals

their remnants on the table

illusions that we exist

15 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. billgncs
    Nov 01, 2012 @ 03:16:36

    hope you are not sad.


  2. Steven S. Walsky
    Nov 01, 2012 @ 12:58:29

    Very nice. Another verse of a few words that speak a thousand more. Steve


  3. kshawnedgar
    Nov 01, 2012 @ 21:40:57

    I’ve seen those roses. After long enough, their withered death becomes a thing of beauty that leads to mythical tales of adventure and love.


  4. J Matthew Waters
    Nov 02, 2012 @ 01:18:10

    hard to let them go…a lovely poem


  5. warmginger
    Nov 02, 2012 @ 09:12:58



  6. Miss Kitten
    Nov 02, 2012 @ 12:06:18

    And yet we still insist on leaving those long dead roses in their long dried up vase until they crumble into dust. Pitifully.


  7. Steven S. Walsky
    Nov 02, 2012 @ 15:11:32

    Reblogged this on Simplicity Lane and commented:
    A verse of a few words that speak of a thousand more.


  8. e1aine
    Nov 02, 2012 @ 20:21:20



  9. Trackback: Saturday Poetry Sampler #4 – Make It Real « Lyrical Anarchy
  10. agjorgenson
    Nov 13, 2012 @ 02:36:51

    Lovely, thanks for stopping by stillvoicing!


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