wisterias
hanging like little cosmic clouds
not knowing
how transiently they will be pruned
to adorn synthetically scented rooms
This poem is about:
Our world
Additional Resources
Get AI Feedback on your poem
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If You Need Support
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741