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# 10 mindful (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
i picked a flower
light blue and fragile as the sky,
petals fanned out, eight ways
to praise the world.

it smelled of dewrops and springtime,
green as the other side of the grass
and grazed with little hairs
that tickled to touch.

i gave her a name
but it was meaningless,
a mirage to make me feel
she would stay.

i know
i know, that once picked
she will slowly wither
and it will be my hands
that bear responsibility.

but in the meantime,
she is with me
and until tomorrow comes
we will lie
and appreciate the sky
before the crack of dawn
splinters it apart.
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