Wilting Flowers

Flowers.
So many flood the meadow.
As I pick one,
Feeling the stem between my fingers.
I smile,
Feeling it's warmth between my fingertips.
But it wilts before I say a word.

Now barely and flowers grow in the meadow,
Only a barren waseland remains.
And if a flower starts to develop,
It wilts before I even have a chance feel it's happiness.

All the flowers wilt

All the flowers die

The wilted flowers make me want to cry



Wilting Flowers.