The daisies,
as the days go by,
shed their delicate skin:
their white satin dresses.
Piece by piece, it falls,
back to the dirty soil:
a burial.

Filed under: Original, Poetry

by

A member of Singapore-based writing collective /stop@BadEndRhymes ("/s@ber"), Valen dwells in the swamp of poetry. He has been published in various publications, including Anxious Poets Society, Eunoia Review and Quarterly Literary Review Singapore. He has performed his work at the Arts House, the Singapore Art Museum, and in various dingy bars.

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