My Flower and Me

lovely poem



From your view, the flower dies
For it will live in me
As it gives to me, life
From our view, we dream deep.

We sit here far from death
We await the sun to shine
We are filtered but not withered
We long for, to see water.

From here death can be felt
With the sights of your eyes
As you stand there without water
From your stance death will be.

We look to you for belief
We believe it is your least
We can not see tendering less
We look at you with belief.



photograph by Amanda Kerr


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Thomas DeAngelo

This is a writer of modern poetry and an inspiring writer. Residing in the lower Appalachian mountains of Pennsylvania where he enjoys reading, writing and is his spare time hiking. He has been writing since the 1980's with expectations of being published. The words that flow by ink are the defeats and enjoyments of the life lived in the years that accompanied the mind of a writer that measured his time recognizing the passions of surrounding people.

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