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I saw this a day or two ago, and I loved it...
Later on, I wrote a poem. I looked back at this, and I am surprised at how much what I wrote fits, considering I wasn't thinking about this photograph at all as I wrote...
.: The Rusted Knight :.
With each day,
They watch as another blossom petal,
Floats away.
And their heart stings like a nettle.
With each petal that passes on,
A memory does too.
They weep with each breaking dawn,
With each day come new.
They long for the past,
And wonder if it pines for them back.
Perhaps they're the last,
Of which sorrowful thoughts make them hack.
They cling onto the petals, the memories,
Desperate for something to remain.
Their friends left and replaced by enemies,
The petals washed away in the rain...
Interpret your own meaning, if you give this a glance at all.
Later on, I wrote a poem. I looked back at this, and I am surprised at how much what I wrote fits, considering I wasn't thinking about this photograph at all as I wrote...
.: The Rusted Knight :.
With each day,
They watch as another blossom petal,
Floats away.
And their heart stings like a nettle.
With each petal that passes on,
A memory does too.
They weep with each breaking dawn,
With each day come new.
They long for the past,
And wonder if it pines for them back.
Perhaps they're the last,
Of which sorrowful thoughts make them hack.
They cling onto the petals, the memories,
Desperate for something to remain.
Their friends left and replaced by enemies,
The petals washed away in the rain...
Interpret your own meaning, if you give this a glance at all.