A bouquet of flowers, how symbolic of a love that wilts away. Petals turning brittle, I watch it's slow decay. A head that starts to droop, a hunger and thirst that can't be quenched; what once was lovely and fragrant produces such a rotten stench. Tossed out with the garbage, a new bouquet fills its place. The cycle then continues; such symbolism in a vase.
Another short working poem, just a random thought I had. I need to smooth it out somehow.