November 6, 2011
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A quiet flower
Untouched, un moved
Still, in the light of the sun
Awaiting the bees
The joys of life not yet intoxicating her
The sorrows not yet making her sad
Morning dew falls upon her
Drawing her out of a yearning dase
To become whole and alive
When, she is visited by a friend,
An innocent one, who only cares.
Who gives the flowerbud what she wants
And the flowerbud returns the favor
She blooms
Her pinkish white color,
Ceasing to amaze all.
She then but realizes,
Admist the happiness,
She is but a flower.
She is one of trillions.
Though her beauty unparalleled,
She is unable to do anything,
Experience life,
Help someone,
Or love.

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