205. A Flight Too Soon


crimson, orange, pink, blue
patterned firm, soft velvet too
slender, stunted, open, wide
warm folds, graced as a bride

strung by an urge, impatient
by yearning, expressed latent
proud by color, to fly too soon
amidst winds to live and croon

blown by wicked air passing by
a scoff at the silent, deep sky
losing grip of one’s own ground
a dance of petals in frenzy sound

we are but flowers of mild memory
envying, warring in blood, gory
forgetful of the plant of our birth
ages of care, in laps of humble earth

long gone rivers of love in heart
unable to discern the obvious apart
shelter of the sky, shone by sunlight
erased out of mind, nowhere in sight

strength, not from our muscles fierce
but roots of ancestors of million years
in engulfing the Sun afar by desire
we create a sinister darkness, dire

we maybe flowers, flamboyant
yet forget a kind gratitude, potent
for present lives, of deep, long origin
by a flight too soon, be guilty of a sin

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