Here’s a poem I wrote a few weeks ago. No, it isn’t comedy. I quite like writing poetry.
There’s no diginity in a dying flower,
you say to me as we approach this final hour,
I can’t stand the thought that I,
may stand still to see you go,
may close your eyes and watch the wave grow,
it’s such an insipid thing to say, but,
I can’t let you penetrate the clouds,
I will not wait and I will not want,
to lose my dignity in a dying flower.