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Weeding Out
May 26, 2015
Death waits after birth,
Inbetween, is how we come to be.
We’re shaped by all we meet,
Taking pieces of them, as souvenirs.
We’re untamed roses,
Our petals are over lapped experiences
Making us a garden of learners.
Traveling on thorned road of life,
With no destination,
We wait for a sign to show us
Where we are meant to be.
I’m a white rose, standing alone,
Waiting for a companion of color.
© Kimberly C., Houston, TX
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