The sadness of Spring

Growing silently, consuming the small splats of rain while stretching and growing, 

Spreading unseen, living as silent as a rock, longer and longer taking up the space, 

Yearning for water, silent and ignored, fighting for all that was left, 

The feel of the soil is like the skin of a snake, dry and barren, waiting for more. 

Rotten fruits are thrown nearby, the smell is nearly as dangerous as poison, 

Rats nibble on her toes, the smell was so heavenly before, 

Armies of ants pass by her fallen pink flowers,  

Stealing each nectar, smelling each thing they see; their life is as delicate as glass. 

Her smooth skin tricks little beasts to come and climb, but it’s only an illusion as there are ridges and bumps, 

Flaking softly while peeling skin, she cries and weeps, it’s like a scar from a knife, 

She falls into despair, she wants to show emotion, but she can’t.

The silence is fragile like glass, she wants to shatter it as it’s the pain that life has given her. 

Wishing for company always disappoints her, her small pink beauties are like daughters of the sun, 

Her flowers are beautiful and shady, they keep her cool on sweltering summer evenings, 

Flowers dance and fly to the scorching dry wind, 

Swishing and swaying while reaching to the peaceful calm sky.