I am still amazed
that the gentle white seeds
and the vibrant, alive yellow petals
are the same flower. I feel
both against my fingertips,
and realize how different they feel. I
am in love with it's gentle touch,
but filled with sorrow as the seeds
fly away with the wind. I saw a
young child, blowing away
the seeds of the dead "flower"; creating new
weeds that will blossom yet again.