A flower blossoms
Made in time
From decaying life.
Death handpicked
To return to Earth
To join what was
Before.
To become,
Churned aeons of dirt
To fill the bed
So flower’s frolicking fun
Can begin,
And eventuate
Into a delicate,
Blooming beauty
Swaying to the beat
Of a Southerly gust.
In that bed,
A flower blossom.

MT

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