Prompt: None used. I actually wrote another poem earlier, but it was pretty angry and raw and I'm not ready to share it. Then I had this idea. It's not brilliant, but I see the beginnings of something in it.
|Photo by and (c)2007 Jina Lee|
A small, fragile blossom,
Wrapped up tight against itself,
Against the world,
Needs nurture and love and kindness,
To show itself to the world.
If picked at,
It will shrivel and die,
It's purpose is to thrive and open,
Expose its tender centre,
Be a fragrant, vibrant miracle of nature.