Wide open to the world, to life, to butterflies and sweet breezes,
They stand tall and strong on sturdy stems.
Some invented a graceful curve to entice the touch of a finger tip.
They smell of spring, sunshine and new beginnings.
These are past their prime and yet…
The saturated, sometimes spicy and vibrant hues
Of the young bloom is still there
But tempered by subtle shading and nuances.
The same softness is multiplied in countless unfurled petals,
Some wearing their scars without shame,
As the fading flowers stretch and open up for more light,
Living their last days fully.
Cup a flower in your hands,
Run a thumb gently across the petals
And you will hear the ruffles of a skirt,
The pages of a beloved book
And endless butterfly kisses
Echo in your palms.