I lift my head
My heavy head
Full of worry for my future
Will my petals still be there
Or will they have blown to the wind
Will I still be in bloom
That is the question
There is a chance they will be
Or floating in my room
somewhere.
Will the stems to my brain
be detached never to return
In the atmosphere for all to catch
Latching on to this and that
but not me.
We will see.
Will the seeds of my soul be roaming
in cyberspace
Here in this place
I would like them to be
We will see.
I am a flower
An attractive one at that
Colours in my mind
are painted freehand
I try to understand
The winter comes
then the frost
freezing the mind with dust
clogging chambers
Just like a vaccum cleaner
Shake to the wind
freeing my soul
of grime and dust
which paint my world
for I am a flower.