When You Left My Life

Far too quickly a plucked flower withers,
the bright lustre, colour and smell fades
when it’s removed from the ground where it grows
when it is cut off, torn from its own life.

When you left my life on your own
our love had been cut off,
when the door bashed close the last time
and that which had been between us did end.

The beautiful cups dry out, shrink and collapse
while the smell vanquishes, gets dull,
and I cry in vain about the decay,
becoming aware far too late that I had been used

like a plucked flower I only go to dust.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!