Wilting in august
By Bridgette L
Published 1 October 2024
Her escalating rise was like the moon.
She once held the life of the sun in her eyes
And now she rests, in august.
Her heart is open.
She peers at the sky,
A
She smiles.
Does the sun smile back at her, too?
But as it sinks,
She sighs.
And neatly folds her wounded petals in an unaccomplished manner.
She wasn’t complete.
But softly, she closes her exhausted eyes one final time,
As her too-tired stem and stalk
Weep to the ground-
Wilted.