A bed of flowers
Smiling at the advent of spring
But amidst them a tiny bud
Still furled,
Afraid
Lest harshness touches its very core.
Keeping vulnerabilities hidden inside,
Safe.
Secure...
The gentle breeze
The whispers of the trees
Urging it to open up,
To see the world
It's beautiful they used to say.
But always came the same reply
Tightening the petals again
That it's cruel, cold...
One day came a bird
Sang songs of love,
Of hope,
Of the experience called life.
The bud unfurling a little
Listening in unadulterated wonder...
Thought it would bloom for a day.
One morning it opened its petals
Slowly, hesitating a bit
Drinking the sight around it
The nature basking in all its glory
What had been it missing it thought...
It never closed again.
Time passed,
Its life nearing its end...
And then, there came the rains
The now-bloomed flower had never experienced such a sight...
Wanting to feel,
To touch,
Faced the sky with open petals
Letting the droplets wash its face
The wind caress its soul
Pushing aside the warnings thrown at it.
The regret, the anguish of missing out so long
Burning inside
The raindrops bruising its outstretched petals
The storm creating havoc with its senses
Taking a bit of its life every time...
It let them
Embracing them
Wanting to melt, to blend...
Gazing around wistfully one last time
The sweet sadness
The utter madness
It let the waterdrops wash it away...