Petals in an Hourglass.

Petals in an Hourglass.

 

Petals rain from the bud

As droplets would from fluffs of white and gray.

 

She plucks them deliberately,

Delicately laying them to the fresh soil.

 

Blonde hair wavers slightly in the late summer breeze,

As does her dress of snow-white.

 

Darkness engulfs the horizon,

Leaching its filthy hands along the sky.

 

Her daisy is running short,

Petals laid on the earth outnumber those not.

 

Sand in the bottom of an hourglass

Grows as she leaves her choice to chance.

 

The question flitting through her mind:

Not “Does he love, does he not?”

 

But rather,

“To be, or not to be?”

Author's Note

Just something I cooked up :)