SLEEP FOR THE WEARY
The sun peeks through
a canopy of trees.
A blanket of color
protects me with leaves.
I’m sheltered with
soft petals of pink.
Like velvet sheets
splattered with ink.
A bed in the petals
offers rest for the weary.
I give a sigh of contentment
as my eyes grow teary.
We wait for the night,
dry from the sun,
weak to our roots.
We yearn for moisture,
petals limp,
stems drooping.
We wait for the night,
for the moonlight
to ease our pain.
We wait for the dew
to quench our thirst,
to replenish our souls.
We wait for the sun
to lift its fiery head
and begin its daily ritual.
We are ready
to face the new day
with arms lifted.
Blood red rose.
Petals open to the sun.
Don’t shy away from me.
Don’t turn your face.
I’m here to receive your love.
Your compassion.
Your petals are closing.
Dew is dripping,
And I am leaving.
Source:yura03
Petals drift in the warm breeze.
Pretty in pink, they flutter.
The fragrance tickles my nose.
Velvety soft to the touch.
My senses engaged.
My mind is at rest.
No need for worries.
No need for more words.
IT’S THE SEASON
The petals fall fast and furious.
The bare trees watch the fallen.
Limbs shivering in the coming cold.
Pink tears of surrender coat the ground.
As seasons come and go.
Yearning for their lost children.
They lift scraggly arms to the sky.
Prayers will soon be answered,
As seasons come and go.
Coats of white land on their branches.
Night falling all too soon.
Shivers dislodge the packed ice.
Leaving them bare once again.
They lift weary eyes to the sky.
As seasons come and go.
A warm wind caresses their arms.
Eyes open to sprouting buds.
Green and pink sweaters for spring.
Their children have returned.
As seasons come and go.
Smoke fills my lungs,
I stand strong.
Petals to the sky,
I fulfill my destiny.
Tears burn holes
never to be filled.
Demons in my soul
leave scars never repaired.
Each sigh forces a step back.
Each storm bends my stem a bit more.
I persevere through the rain,
the sleet,
the snow.
I yield to the sun and the moon.
I take what is given.
I replace when I’m able.
Though dry are my leaves,
I lift them to the sky.
Though parched are my lips,
I face the sun.
Smoke burns my eyes,
but I see clear.
I bow my head.
