Flower Petals

Early on one April morning,
A beautiful flower took its sprout,
It grew many beautiful petals,
These petals were bright in the field,
A touch of generic beauty in the dull expanse,
And in their summer prime,
Those petals gave joy to passersby,

But August descended into October,
One by one with the autumn wind,
The petals were blown off,
And into the big, open world,
Until one snowy December wind,
Blew the last petal away,

The petals blew around,
And saw many places away from their home-field,
Sometimes the winds blew right,
And a few of the petals would collect
Then scatter and return to the world,
Slowly they started to wither,
Until a bitter March wind pierced the last,

And in the spring the flower sprouted,
Beautiful, bright new petals,
And the originals were now dead,
They withered at different times and places,
But they all came from that flower,
And nothing could ever change that,
Santana4 Santana4
13-15, F
Dec 15, 2012