The Long Grass
Such a flower she holds!Long stemmed and willowy sturdy.
It seems to her that it will bloom forever
As she dances inhaling its perfume.
Her unwrinkled hands caress the plush petals
As she is wafted toward the meadow.
This one flower unfurls her life towards her.
She is holding onto her reasons.
She does not yet know how fragile
Her bloom is...
It is a fast dying flower of course
That will expire overnight.
I watch her dance...
And should warn her
But wont.
Every flower dies in its own time.
Why warn when pollen stained fingers
Mark such a time?
I shall not ask her to anticipate
The leaving of the long grass.
Poetry by limber junctionson
Read 541 times
Written on 2008-04-13 at 03:06
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