It is no accident that we have palms With fingers extending from them For when we unite our two hands, They become a blooming flower. We can follow the veins with our eyes From fingertips to hearts Blushing red.
Pumping into us another day Another hope Another dream To find within ourselves the petals To water faithfully.
I have watered fatefully. Yet my flower has grown too long In chilly dark basements With mold growing in the corners and Cobwebs decorating cracking walls.
I’ve only the strength to crack a thin beam of light To dance upon the corners of my flower. When will the music invite more?