Open-Ended Garden

Flowers are like people
in a strange, unruly way
for they weep when unattended
like a vagrant locked away.
And with their colors quite alluring
they are held by careful hands
yet in an open-ended garden
things are hard to understand.
Red like roses is a loving
blue petunias, tears of joy.
Blown apart like dandelions
are the armies we deploy.
Find us lying in the soil
flowers dead within the garden
when the wind unleashes winter
who we were is soon to harden.
And the only thing remaining
is the fact that we existed
from the summer to an afterlife
like flowers we persisted.

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