To A Friend Who Likes To Have Beauty In Her Hands
you do not gather the flowers
that easily from the sides of the hill
where you were never there
once
planting the seeds
nothing comes by chance or random
nothing sprouts just like magical seeds
using the lighted wand of your
fairy godmother
the flowers grow and bloom there
because someone took the burden
of seeding, transplanting, watering
and pruning them
these flowers are taken cared of
by loving hands
do not think that there is no sweat at all shed from the brows
for something so beautiful to land in your hands
or even by an accidental gaze hovering in the
retina of your eyes
he spent the sleepless nights watching the flowers
he bowed down to earth as though asking for the mercy
of the gods
he prayed and worked hard then beauty comes
in the grandeur of its petals in the dignity of its perfume
arrayed by the pearls of the dews
and salted by the power
of his tears.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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