maybe it will never change
maybe we will still be flowers on the side of the road
still no place to call home
but still flowing in our veins is the wildness and adventure that
we’ve always known to be
we would be gleaming with vivd colors.
still trying to survive
the droughts
the rains
the storms
the heat
the wind
the bitter cold
when winter comes along, and someone doesn’t stop to pick you next and we will be left
to wilt
forgotten
something once so beautiful and fragile
now lifeless and limp.
r. Powell
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 9:50 PM UTC
maybe it will never change
maybe we will still be flowers on the side of the road
still no place to call home
but still flowing in our veins is the wildness and adventure that
we’ve always known to be
we would be gleaming with vivd colors.
still trying to survive
the droughts
the rains
the storms
the heat
the wind
the bitter cold
when winter comes along, and someone doesn’t stop to pick you next and we will be left
to wilt
forgotten
something once so beautiful and fragile
now lifeless and limp.
r. Powell
Request permission to use this poem