There’s love in being desired
Caressed, adored
To be lived with, in a forever
For moments, for musings
And then inevitably
Pressed deep down
Against what you don’t read again
Fate of the wildflowers
Chosen, not sustained
-Al
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Author:
Alan R (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 18th, 2026 00:21
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
There is a feel of dryness to this poem as a pressed flower now a memory no longer living just a fragment of the past between pages of time never to be read again. It seems frozen and a bit sad. A fave for the parallels in this metaphor and the feeling evoked
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