Dead, pale colored.
Lying on the ground.
Stiff, yet fragile to the touch.
The edges crusted over.
Like a sugary sweet.
Frosted lightly, only, in the center.
Moving only when the wind blows.
Being pushed, pulled, and crushed.
Within time, contributing to life again.
Nothing more than what it is.
Nothing less, beauty.
A former form of life.
- Title: What could this be?
- Artist: Poetic_Indulgence
Let your imagination take over, let your mind ponder upon what is being said. Think, to yourself, why I wrote this. Then smile.
A poem written as tribute to the fall.
- Date: 11/27/2008
- Tags: could
- Reference Image: