Petals

Each of us are petals, held lovingly by
A mother plant until such a day that she
Hides her fears away, allows us to be free
To fall our own way. Thence we sweep and swoop
So wonderfully, a bright light of our own
For all to see. Flickering like a candle, a
Gentle flame in the breeze we land softly, finding
Our own paths, loves and desires. Time passes with
The drifting days, years and lives. Never does our
Mother stop being proud of us, their petals, the
Epitome of their achievement.

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