Dried Flowers.

Dry flowers in a glass vase
No more pull of water through withered veins
Sighed against the effort so long
Current lulled and eased the strain
Dead bird knows
That it can never fly again

As light beams turn horizontal
Possibility tree blooms less ornamental
Roots lie shallow, inconsequential

And now all is faded
No one is here
It is cold here
There is no love here
Everything you tried to be
Fell apart screaming
All your little plans
Turned to dust while you were dreaming.