The Way of the Flower: A Poem

I leave the door half open
for you. won’t you come in?
the way you did when
we were friends?
I do not have hinges;
cannot swing wide at a
careless nudge.
I am more the way
of the flower, opening
in the morning
as the sun covers me
with her golden
mouth, awakened by
the wet kisses of

the dew.

Comments

  1. says

    We sensitive types are like that, aren’t we? Responding more favorably to gentle, affectionate warmth than “a careless nudge”? Praying the Lord sends you many kind friends who love you tenderly.

  2. June says

    Your poems are beautiful in their profoundness, Laura. I enjoy pounderin & unearthing their message. A wellspring indeed! Have a blessed week!

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