Snow Flurries

satishverma

You start crying
about the lost meaning
of the red lily, sitting
on a tender stem―
waiting for the kiss of moon.

It will never speak of the
bluebells and daffodils,
hyacinths and tulips.

Fleur-de-lis.
Lily white, I always
adored your downy arms
arching to lift a X

Noises in the head
have risen again. You will
need the deadly nightshade
with drooping purple flowers.

Or you drink the potion
of hemlock and become
Socrates.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 14th, 2020 19:33
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 26
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Comments +

Comments1

  • jarcher54

    Lovely and painful... I felt like I knew where you were going from the first line. Yet it was a shock nonetheless.



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