Petals I am, folded in delicate stray
one leads in while the other leads away.
Mission seems prompted by some inner guide told.
I may not touch the design deemed to unfold.
Petals I am fallen once offered in their day
revealed in humble glory with all to tell, all to say.
Then temporal beauty falls far from the core,
Lost as a sparkle of dust that remains on the floor.
Petal past, how you drew me to fate’s door.
My soul surrenders death as it sheds once more.
© 2011 Linda Willows