A flower I dared not pluck -
out of love for your radiance,
out of fear of your silent ache,
out of care for your unfolding,
out of awe for the life in you.
The thought of your wither
was a storm I could not weather;
so I let you be, untouched,
praying you would bloom,
forever reaching toward the sun.
Letting you bloom was my wish,
but when the storms came too strong,
you decided to wither away,
because the weight of the world,
felt heavier than your light.
Holding the memory of your petals,
I wonder, if my hands, though gentle,
could have held you together or,
if the storms were always destined
to take you back to the earth so soon.