A sensitive
little white
flower,
opens
her
petals
by the
opening
of lunar
light,
seeking
to heal
others
as they
lie in their
dreams, she
whispers
to them
within
their
hearts,
“hear 
these
words, 
and 
allow 
me 
to take 
care 
of you, 
allow my 
petals to 
heal your 
wounds, 
I will gently 
touch your 
tears and 
dissolve 
them 
within 
my own
heart”
the soft
wind
tousles
her, the
butterfly
touched
upon the
flowers
heart,
“tell
me the
secret
to flight”
the fragile
one asked,
it flew
again
into the
nightly
hour,
she felt
a dew,
she
looked
up and saw
the florist,
who
sung
to her,
“the
secret
is love,
where
it is,
there
is flight”