Steam billows about me licking my arms.
My pores strain to drink invisible drops.
Bottles surrounding me restrict my place.
My petals shed in to a brown bag of bits.
Icy panes frame me with frost at my back.
Nature begins to claim all that I have.
From the tips of my bloom I start to fade.
Slowly death works making crooked my spine.
Left without plume, naked, shriveled and bare.
Wasted from the lack of good care.
My dried roots held up like arthritic claws
Leaves limp left longing for life.
My decaying beauty, lingering sadness.
No water for tears within me.
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