The Petal {to the Metal}
Each flower has a story.
Every bud, every leaf.
Most fall short of glory.
All grow to know grief.
This is the reason a petal
Makes the hand that holds it weep.
Were its heart made of metal,
The hand would surely freeze.
Each part must tendril to connect.
The rose no less than the weed.
Beauty and sweetness do not collect,
But watch for openings to feed.
Ah, your velvet, grassy feel.
Stay with me through the night.
Help me, too, to be real.
To battle softly for my light.
(c) Phyllis Jean Green, Veteran’s Day, 2003
Rodd
Sandie Angel a.k.a. May Lu :o)