Picking Petals
Picking Petals
D.R. Factor
She's sits on the edge of twlight caught in a tranquil thought.
Her reflection rippled by falling petals of loves me and love me nots.
She seems too delicate to touch.
Like a soft pastel scene or butterfly wings.
She's a dream that would burst into stardust.
So I gaze at her and the distance.
Comparing her beauty to the sunset.
Realizing they complimented one another.
Each as stunning as the other.
And I wonder how it feels to be loved by this girl.
To be the man she picks petals for...
No....If it was me this moment wouldn't be left to roses and chance.
I would love her the way God loves the world.
She picks up her basket filled with an array of corollas,
and passes in front of me, wiping her tears behind a smile.
The breeze carries the fragrance of her hair, a slight hint of her perfume,
and blends them with the aroma of flowers she's gathered to enlighten her mood.
I watched her and the day disappear with the sun,
and felt the night grow cold and black,
as if it was the soul of the man who broke her heart.
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