It makes no sense.
We pull flowers from the earth,
Ending their lives prematurely,
In hope to renew life and love,
In the heart of someone else.
How dead our own hearts must be,
To not see the folly in awarding,
A dieing thing as a gesture for,
Loving, in an attempt for living.
Leave them alone,
Lest your heart takes leave,
And turns into a leaf,
A martyr to love,
Separated from it’s lover,
Making way for another.
Please see the talented work of Heather James Nicole from Heather James Photography. Inspiring and perfect time captures. The above photography belongs to her, used with her permission.