Wilted Flowers Poem Novels & Stories

"I am on the brink of the cliff, can you catch me? I am shrinking, will you see me?" "In a wink, there's only one eye. In a heart, there's only one side" "Sadly, it has given me a Willow flower. It ruined my Honeysuckle flower for someone."

They were women made of glass, women who spent their days reclining on silk cushions, waiting for an Emperor to save them from a passing breeze or a buzzing fly. I had stopped near a large ceramic pot filled with dazzling, vibrant roses. They were loud and proud, shouting their beauty to the sun. But my gaze had been drawn to one specific flower. It was standing out because it was failing. It was wilting, its edges curling inward, losing its battle with the heat. Without thinking, I had plucked it. I brought it up to this very room, laying it on the bedside table. I will nurture you, I had whispered to it. I will bring you back to life. But I had forgotten. The very next day, I had gone to S

CHAPTER THREE -WILHELMINA- I sat listlessly at my vanity, staring at the vase of red roses my soon-to-be husband had sent. The flowers stood tall and proud, their petals unfurling like a lover's promise, but they offered her no solace. The reality of my situation seeped further into my mind as the fresh scent of the roses tainted the air, reminding me of the prestigious life I would soon be entangled in. My heart throbbed within the cage of my ribs, akin to a bird desperately trying to escape its confines.

“I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” — W. B. Yeats ~~~ [Xanthea Plath] I limped into the graveyard, clutching my broken arm with the other hand. Blood mixed in the rain trailed down from my shoulder to my elbow, down my wrists, making its way to my fingers that clutched the small bouquet of forget-me-not flowers. Every flower of the bouquet was crushed and marred with blood-stains. The blue ribbon that once tied the flowers together was long lost.

As the hopes and dreams of all those years shattered to pieces, I could feel tears trickling down my cheeks slowly. - The flowers are on the table, their once beautiful petals curling at the edges from the summer heat, their stems were already limp, and as he lifted them up, their heads dropped to the table with gravity. Ciro cursed inwardly as his gaze wandered throughout the hall. His gaze was drawn to an empty vase, which he filled with water and set it down on the table next to the flowers. He delicately picked up each flower and put them on the vase with Incompetent hands. The flowers, like the rainbow, appear beautiful no matter how they are arranged. Flowers are just stunning on their

Lady Iris had also been in the scene early, staring at the once white flower that had turned darker in color and how dull the veins crawling on the petals had become. Seeing this, she quickly rushed toward, Lady Catherine, muttering her mouth as if to say something. Although Rose couldn’t hear what she said, she could see the lady’s mouth moving as she went into the garden. Dominic also stood beside her as they had woken up together. “What’s the matter?” Dominic directly dropped his question, thinking there was no need of going around the bush. Lord Salem was the one who spoke, “Earlier morning your grandmother found your mother’s favorite flower had wilted. They are very resilient flower, s

It was a surprise how the warmest green could look so dull with her staring at him like he was a vermin on the ground. His eyes then fell on Levy who was holding a bouquet of white lilies. He then remarked, “ Why is it that every time I see a lily it’s forever wilted?” He then raised his eyes and looked at Levy before curling the side of his lips as he taunted, “ Is it your effect? Because my heart gets just as wilted as these flowers when I am with you.” In response he got a glare as Levy responded, “ Then you need to look for some magical gardener for your wilted heart. I am sure many will be willing.”

She could only process everything on her own. For almost an entire week, she hadn’t contacted him. In the end, he couldn’t take it anymore and called her. “I got the flowers you sent, but they died in the vase,” Wilfred said, pausing for a moment with a tone that sounded almost regretful. Karina almost thought she had misheard him. He continued, “Did I do something wrong with the way I kept the flowers?” Karina stumbled over her words, “Well... flowers that have been picked will wilt quickly, even if you put them in a vase. But if you liked them, I can send more.”

"How odd." "That?" She questions me. “The flowers,” I observe, bewildered, “are wilted.” "Not at all." It makes me curious. "Because?" “Flowers are cut and most of the time they do not appreciate all their facets, no one sees the beauty of a flower wither, they lose its last colors” he explains, “Look at it, it is about to wither and yet it still looks beautiful.” , keep it and its last emotions will stay with you.”

Suddenly, an uninvited guest crashed the wedding halfway through. It was Carlo. He was bony, wearing a wrinkled suit, and holding a wilted bouquet of roses. He staggered in front of me, babbling, "Rosa… look, I brought you your favorite roses. Won't you marry me? Let's get married today." Luca's bodyguards moved in to remove him, but I held my hand up. I took the wilted bouquet of roses and looked straight at him. "Oh, Carlo. Look at me. Take a good look... Whose wedding do you think this is? This is my wedding. Mine, and I'll be marrying Luca. And you? You're just a madman crashing someone else's wedding."