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Shallow footsteps
I pay no heed to the ground on which I walk,
Until my toes brush the petals atop a daffodil stalk
It's then, that I see the reason for the curtains of rain,
Battling against the sun in the sky until only the flowers remain
I kneel upon the ground until the earth leaves my knees dirtied,
My pride measures me for not plucking the flower, deeming my heart worthy
Flowers don't care whether they're plucked or not,
And I don't either, which is something that I forgot
The apathy of a man and that of the flower,
With the revelation of my conceit, my taste turns sour
My heart is made of gold, but it is hollow,
Wherever I walk, torn petals follow
© Smellen D'generes
Until my toes brush the petals atop a daffodil stalk
It's then, that I see the reason for the curtains of rain,
Battling against the sun in the sky until only the flowers remain
I kneel upon the ground until the earth leaves my knees dirtied,
My pride measures me for not plucking the flower, deeming my heart worthy
Flowers don't care whether they're plucked or not,
And I don't either, which is something that I forgot
The apathy of a man and that of the flower,
With the revelation of my conceit, my taste turns sour
My heart is made of gold, but it is hollow,
Wherever I walk, torn petals follow
© Smellen D'generes
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