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In obscurity

A wounded flower lies in meaningless      obscurity

 

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

 

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