A Wounded Flower

A wounded flower, a tulip , a rich pink color

Lying at my feet, plucked untimely

Not in tribute, vandalized really,

Fallen flat on its face

It’s deep thick petals beginning to curl,

To lose their sinuous luster

Plucked in anger or indifference, laid out

To display its withering splendor

Beauty besmirched by idle careless hands,

I step around it but soon it will be trampled into

Meaningless obscurity

(c) Tamara Beck


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s