reply
Learn more about other poetry terms
One noon, my friends pranked you,
Pretending like they always do.
They texted that I want us to meet,
Even if I don't want to greet.
There was no point in saving that part of the garden, for it was long gone.
The flowers, dead and dry, no longer vibrant with color, laid stiffly parallel to the ground.
The soil, too, was devoid of nutrients.
I don't really know exactly what my verse will be,
But all I know is that I am here, alive
Right now
But somehow
I do know that I am meant to be, do,
Something great.
And for now