Paper Flowers
This life of mine, carefully,
I folded, crease by crease,
a paper flower, delicate,
painted with a fragile peace.
Floating in the wind
From the tears of a child
Who lost her prize possession.
Thank you for reading. I appreciate your time. Many blessings.
I saw it land
wet and coming apart at the corners,
still holding its shape
but barely.
I don't know how to give it back.
I don't know if you'd want it back,
ruined like this,
or if you're already gone,
building something new
with steadier hands.
All I know is
I'm standing here with someone else's sorrow
and it feels too heavy
for something made of paper.
The wind keeps blowing.
I keep thinking about that child,
how she must have watched it go,
reaching after nothing.
I do that too sometimes
reach for things already lost,
pretend my fingers might close
around air and memory
and call it enough.
Maybe we're all just
letting go of our careful work,
watching it scatter,
wondering if anyone will find the pieces
and understand
what we were trying to make.
Fragile peace, folded with care. There’s so much tenderness and lived history in these few lines. And I agree with Asuka, that last line...