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Boy In The Flowers


By Paul CrockerPublished 3 years ago 1 min read

How the roots intertwine.

Wrapping around my legs like vines.

Grounding me into the soil like an anchored ship.

But I'm not complaining about the grip.

When I'm a boy in the flowers.

The stems surround me like a fence.

Keeping out the sights that cause offence.

Only the sunlight may pass through.

Just enough to remind me what is true.

I am the boy in the flowers.

Leaves overlap to cover my skin.

Blanketing from the touch of the wind.

Taking the cold hit so that I may bloom in peace.

Unaware of how they sacrifice themselves to the freeze.

This is the boy in the flowers.

Pretty petals shelter me from the storm.

Their beautiful hues keep me warm.

However dark, a rainbow awaits.

A welcome sight at any rate.

I'm the boy in the flowers.

The pollen mixes with my breath.

Because there is no clean air left.

My asthma kicks in on cue.

But I left my inhaler at home for you.

When I am the boy in the flowers.

I could have been there for hours.

Soaked to the skin by the summer showers.

How triumphantly they tower.

With their natural powers.

I was the boy in the flowers.

sad poetry

About the Creator

Paul Crocker

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