Then, at the insistence of Mother, the others came. Shy at first and oblivious to their two defrocked sisters – now silent with mere purple clusters staring vacantly beyond fresh dew as their own pinkness lay fowl on the garden floor. There is no time for mourning such magnificent brevity; the diminishing of one is in the memory of the other.
On unbending stalks, the many sisters reach towards the next day, unaware of time tapping recklessly against delicate folds of innocence. They have risen above the ones that hold tight to the promise of beauty in swollen buds, yet they continue to seduce winged ones and walking ones alike with intoxicating fertility and wild perfection.
GOOD ONE
ReplyDeleteMy garden is my inspiration.
ReplyDeleteActually...I have many sources of inspiration...this is a great one.
ReplyDelete