Sunday, June 19, 2011

BLOOM (a really really really short story)

laying down in the plush grass, what is this i see before my eyes?  a little blossom, not yet opened; just lying in wait, awaiting to greet our lives.  should i touch the folded pedals so tender, ever so lightly, and part them to set the inner beauty free?  or should i delay; await, to see what wonder shall come before me?  trace a finger up them stem so erect, slowly, to feel the contours within.  flick the leaves with dew a little wet, watch my face widen with a childhood grin.  oh for the days when my fingers could touch the beauty of a flower such as this, but the days not long gone.  unto which was yet to be, my life has folded into the mist, that covers this blossom now hiding from some.

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