On the Naivety of Youth
On the Naivety of Youth
We were once flowers
With painted petals and new-green stalks
Who turned to the sky
And drank from the sun
But we were flowers
Whose shallow roots
Were only anchored
By loose soil and dumb luck
We were still flowers when
April came as April does
And dislodged us
With her waterlogged embrace
We watched
As she wiped away
the pigment of our petals
With her watery fingers
We wept
As her watercolor creek captured
What little soil secured
Our shallow roots
We were no longer flowers
When her springtime sea
Had ceased it tsunami
And left us sodden
We were no longer flowers
When we found ourselves
Unable to adapt to being
Uprooted and untethered
Copyright © Eliza Farley | Year Posted 2021
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