Actias Luna

a poem by Melyssa G. Sprott, USA - poetry writer, author, poet



I can smell the flowers dying,
all the while, I’m weeping—crying.

They lost the light and the bloom,
frail reminders—impending doom.

I mourn for them, those poor slaves,
fate is cruel and rarely saves.

I can hear them, they weep for me—
no turning back, it’s meant to be.

I’ve lost the light and the bloom,
peace at last—I’ll be there soon.

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