Dwindle

When water no longer suits your taste,

will you die out on me 

and all that my nature can provide?

 

When your edges begin to frail,

wither on me.

We'll wait patiently through your life

and all that it confides.

 

Trust in me

and just believe

that your pedals will flow endlessly

in all of

our memories.

This poem is about: 
My family
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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