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Passion

The sun on a flower
Leaves sparking and turning into ash
Petals curling back on themselves and exploding
Into a medley of fireworks
A vein of sparks coursing down the length of the stem
Consuming the vibrant green





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Nicole L. said...
Aug. 6, 2010 at 5:05 pm
When I first read this poem, I just thought beauty of fireworks. Then I read it again and pictured a bomb exploding. Then after I read your comments it made me think of a gun going off. I love it when poems can have different meanings. THis one is like a kalidescope, changing constantly.
 
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