it sits in a field

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it sits in a field

alone

bent and broken

at the stem

graying flower petals

touching the dying grass below

many falling off

with the swift gusts of winds

continually blowing past

 

at one time

it had flourished

the first of its kind

its beautiful

blue petals

catching the sign light

standing out

in the field of green

and many more sprouted around it

creating a patch of blue

so fluid

it could have been mistaken

for a small pond

 

the days of its vibrancy

have come and gone

days that were before the rain

that fell so hard

the large drops bounced off the ground

like a ball on a court

rain that washed away the new growth

of blue that had sprung from the ground

and weighted down the top of the tallest flower

until it bent and snapped under pressure

 

the rain had plans for this flower

plans that would stop it from growing

plans that didn’t want it to survive

didn’t want it take the breaths it needed to survive

stripped of its ability to live

it withered

and by the time

glorious beams of golden rod

shined down on it

it had given up its will to live

crushed under the weight of the world

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