Carnations Inside The Vase

The flowers made her smile
Bliss is knowing their already dead
Stems like giant walking sticks
Skinny with a stubborn energy to be straight.

Cut in a cylinder breath
Water is Time.

The flowers are a test of that time
Sorting through the memories
A flower grows in the concrete.

Sleep sound and be pretty for everyone.

Learning is dying.



Author: storiesfrommystomach

I am from a Village called South Komelik on the Tohono O'odham Nation. I enjoy poetry and philosophy. Hope you enjoy the blog! :)

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