Poetry

Delicate, fragile.
That little bud
Hiding from the temptations of the warm embrace
Of shimmering, sincere sun rays.
Waiting.

For the sweet, watermelon taste of rain-- refreshing.
For the echoing, soft whispers
Of the comforting, kind breeze.
Waiting.

Moonlight shines, revealing a hidden beauty.
And slowly; as the sun rises,
Her secrets. Unfold,
Stories untold - unheard.

And towards the sun, that little bud faces
Open to the world. Spreading in full bloom.
And proudly says: “This is Who I am.”