The wind slowly, but swiftly swaying
Against the petals of the pale lilac flower,
Beautiful yet fragile, only praying
For the storm to pass over the tall towers
Of the frightening city.
Its stem crawling closer and closer to its breaking point
As the water flows towards the river's edge; pity
On the sun's glory and shine. Disjointing
The flower's yellow belly from its furrowing leaves
As its life withers away, taken from the nature of thieves.