Wish Written on the Petals

The petals dancing upon crystal dew draw the honeybee near as the sun spills its light.

Thunderclaps conceal their envy, for the petals open only to the rain.

They curl up as people pass by.

Their greatest fear is an empty vase upon a coffee counter,

or a painted frame hanging on moldy walls.

A soulless worship.

A corsage around the wrist is not much better.

The petals are meant for the warm evening breeze.

They wish to trace the folds of the ground.

Their seeds scatter across the earth,

beyond all boundaries,

their roots wander into the distance.