Tissue Paper Flowers

From the blackened scorched ground
flowers bloom briefly.
Sprouting fast, wrinkled, white,
tissue paper petals.

The sun from without,
and from within,
Shining on us
and at our center.

Like fingers of golden coral,
tiny twists,
fuzzy with particles of pollen
dusting the center streamers.

Petals so thin, flimsy, and
Carried on the breeze,
floating on external energy.

Recharging the
remnants of our shine and shimmer,
through the grooves made from
the year before.

The terrain mountain ridges,
the road floating away on the summer breeze.
Coming from us,
leading to us.

Divulging secrets to the fiery sky
Stretching upward in crinkled, winding columns.
All too soon, the bloom is gone
and the stems transformed to mulch to begin again.

To begin again

--Melina S., Adult