Pick Me

into the mulcher
from the weed pile
save one wee fleur
so tiny and insignificant
nobody noticed its color
amongst all the greens
where shadows play eye tricks,
yet no one cares,
a pile of weedy greenery
isn't the place to look for diamonds
but still
she lingers there
hopeful that sun won't burn
what's left of her
or leave her stranded
no water nor care,
a last effort
is made
to ask someone to
pick me,
please.. ?
Written by Periwinkleblue
Author's Note
If we don't take care of one single flower how can we hope to take care of the whole planet, those were basically my thoughts which inspired this poem.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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