#1018591 added October 29, 2021 at 6:46am Restrictions: None
Slow Decay (n)
They don't have time for you --
can't tend to a dreamer.
Stoic stalk lowed,
time-trapped sun dial
reversing, pelted by dark, cold rain.
Gray offshoots slow-tumble
in a disposable planter,
weathered, neglected, soiled
and cracked -- not made for these elements.
I feel you proudly sinking, unnoticed
on front porch, passed daily
summer long, since adulation of her day --
Unmeasured collapse, time-withering
slow decay, long before
memories of ravaging frost.
They finally look at you,
can't tend to dreams,
mend what was lost,
a summer long past. Adulation
now gray for a once stoic stalk,
torn from pot, repurposed
to stiff November earth.
Meld with the warm heart of Mother,
unceremonious inter(n)ment.
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