I remember that big hedge against that wall
Beautifully trimmed,
Flowers bloomed and withered.
Well maintained.
Then it was left there.
It grew and grew, unaware.
Until it was overgrown,
without a care.
Flowers bloomed wildy,
Branches sprawling, reaching out.
Butterflies started to appear.
Landing in each and every flower.
Blooming on the overgrown hedge.
We all grow.
With branches reaching out.
Where flowers bloomed.
A catharsis of each moment.
Of our every mood.
Butterflies flutter,
appreciating the flowers we bloom.
They take care of these flowers,
Flowers of our ultimate boon.
Sometimes we grow too much.
Until we don't fit anymore in this world.
We wither away,
Sharp cuts as branches are trimmed.
Leaves blown by the wind.
The butterflies disappear.
In our last moments,
until the last flower drops on the ground,
and withers away.
Overgrown.
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See y'all in the next!
~Phin
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Insouciance (In Editing)
PoetryInsouciance (n.) free from worry, concern or anxiety. Is it wrong to be fully immersed in a world; In a book or in your own head, Drowning in your sea of thoughts and feelings; While not caring about a world called reality? I don't think so. "I was...
