Poem: The Cycle

Poems II

The Cycle

Something is happening
The plants are dying
Not all flowers can be sad
The sun is too bright
The cold too harsh

You are in the middle of everything

The fourth floor
I thought
”close to the sky and the moon.”
But the plants are dying
And the flowers are mirroring the horror

Despite all my care?
And the water?
The melodies and the little kisses

You are in the middle of everything

Just like that
The cycle is over
time to go
Don’t you see?

It is time to go



Published by Cherry Adam

Moody experimentalist. Hypersensitive & Noir moments Poetry, Essays & Sound Experimentation Freelance Music Journalist

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