Flowers and iron chain

There was a big garden in our house too,
Full of flowers –
Lily, dahlia, chrysanthemum and rose.

The garden is still big, but
It doesn’t delight any more.
The ground is covered with grey, brown leaves and
The remnant plants stand dropping and flowerless.

Flowers do not matter anymore though.
For life looks at me with cold, stony eyes.
It’s tricked me into some sort of treacherous circle.
Round and round it makes me run,
And I run out of vigour and time and joy and smile;
Then there is this weight of iron chain round the neck.

It’s hot and dark.
I squirm in agony, in the smell of my smouldering flesh.

No longer does the perfume of flowers cheer me up.
Thanks for the flowers, anyway.


rusty-chain-1531132_960_720

Inspired by The Daily Post’s one-word prompt, Perfume
Photograph by Kerttu, courtesy by Pixabay.com

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