The moon and the shooting stars Roses dancing in a cool summer breeze- and A daffodil towers above the rosebuds- I was once a lost soul.
I recall childhood days when I picked those roses and made a bouquet- Placed it haphazardly upon my mother’s desk- I still thought of that lonesome daffodil Its petals wavering in a burst of wind-
The chair at my mother’s desk is empty- The desk itself is barren- It was twenty years ago that my mother passed away-
The wind is the force that is against me- The rain now falling is my tears- The thunder is the rage seething inside of me, and Lightening is my strength that shall strike All those that try to harm me-
The sun sets and the moon appears over the horizon, Rose petals flutter about and I am that daffodil standing against the force of the wind- Night descends and the moon and the shooting stars Glimmer in the dark summer’s nighttime sky-
My mother is gone like the rose petals are now and I am no longer a lost soul-but I have become a woman and am like That daffodil that stands tall against the force of The wind that gusts before a storm arrives-