Dwindle
When water no longer suits your taste,
will you die out on me
and all that my nature can provide?
When your edges begin to frail,
wither on me.
We'll wait patiently through your life
and all that it confides.
Trust in me
and just believe
that your pedals will flow endlessly
in all of
our memories.
This poem is about:
My family
Guide that inspired this poem:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: