She exhaled—
and the world unraveled,
spores lifting like soft lanterns,
to a sky too wide to hold them.
Between her fingers,
a single stem, hollow-*****,
the ghost of something once golden,
its crown now a hush of white.
She watched—
how the wind took what it wanted,
how even silence knows how to scatter.
Somewhere, far beyond
a wish landed
and called itself a flower again.
'Even endings, hold beginnings.'