There Are Storms Even On the Sunniest Days
It was like a love affair, brief and lonely.
Out of the garden grew a flower
Pretty and fragile, one tug and the flower is gone.
The wind blew too fiercely that day, like petals off a delicate flower,
the petals went to the wind swirling and off into the sky.What is a flower anyway? There
are storms even on the sunniest days,just not seen.
Like a flower,starting as a seed then blooming
in scent and sight. If we could only be like flowers,but we are.
Sometimes weeds grow.Loving so much and finding a weed, where did it come
from?Had it been growing all along?What do I do?
The smell and touch of a flower, soft and smooth.Is it a weed or a
flower? Whos to say.
Who can tell the difference between a flowering weed and a flower from a
distance?Tell me what's in your garden.
A flower on a windy day.
The petals floating on the breeze, the weeds sturdy in place.
Copyright © Lori Sines | Year Posted 2006
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