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Flower Locus Living
Your life is poetry—
whether words make it
on a page, a screen, an ear,
whether messages
or moments
meet the light of dawn,
parturition processed
sourced from the dusk
of fears and hopes.
You are ebbs
you are flows—
you are metaphors
blooming till they grow feeble
crinkling into fallen flowers,
meeting millipedes
meeting mess—
to grow again
anew—stalks sturdy—
hope an approaching fire
Flower,
Locus,
Living.
Copyright ©
Laura Breidenthal
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