The Love has Died

The Love has Died

It is gone.
Like a flower that died
because of lack of water.
I had hoped that somehow
rain would come.
Just a small shower
to renew life,
but, no, the end came
and the flower lays on the ground.

Do I go out to look for
another special flower?
Is there a garden
with one, just one for me?
Will I ever smell the fragrance
in delight or behold
the colors that please my eyes?

Or will I have only the ground,
rocks, or holes to stumble into?
Why do other people have flowers,
but not me?