The flower

The flower blossoms
too long a bud,
tied tight with leaves
of doubt.

The petals peer,
in timid touch,
the edge of world,

The sigh of life
is stronger now,
to prise imprisoning

The petals stretch,
unfold themselves;
a crumpled beauty

The flower formed,
arms open wide,
can only raise her

Salutes the sun,
drinks wild the wind,
to savour life’s strange


About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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