I will not be patient with you,
You, tiny flowers.
You’re wet and you spoil my day.
I’ll return to you at evening’s rising
When dryness again may muster strength
I’ll beat around already broken bushes before I pick your petals again!
You dry, lonesome petals,
You thought you were the only one who could dream
With pretty petals caressing the sand
But I dream of a world
With no flowers
Or at least
No more tiny,