Nurturing The Wild
A wild and wilting peach blossom, she was,
Unspirited, listless but still thriving,
Fluttering aimlessly and at a loss,
Swaying in the delicate breeze, nodding.
Alone in the wilderness surviving,
Petals dropping, the blossom lacks lustre,
Its hue is slowly but surely fading,
She fears the end, this approaching winter.
Comes along a fine gentleman, one day,
Flicks off the dust from the lifeless petal,
Then he plucks it without further delay,
Breathes life into the jagged nettle.
Can he cultivate this young carefree bloom?
Places and nourishes it in his room?
© autumnB