pink bud

a poem about young femininity

I wish I could relive the days when I was still just a bud. 

A small pink bud with small pink petals waiting to bloom.

I wish I could feel what it felt to wait for my time to bloom.

For the sun on my smooth pink petals, coloring my ever growing stem. 

And now that it has happened, now that I have bloomed, now I am open.

After its bloom, a flower becomes a sagging decoration on the kitchen table.

There is nothing left to wait for.

Nothing to wait for but to lose every

last

pink

petal.

Reviews

[RobynJane]

A pink petal sat
Waiting on a lonely branch.
Falling in the Void.

I like this poem. It reminds me of what Anais Nin once said: "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."

[John the Baptist]

Indeed. That's life. That's why we have to look beyond the petals.