From the corner of my eye,
From the little space between
My unclosed door and the lock,
I make out the rim of a white cloth
Flowing in the gust,
And it petrifies me at once.
It's her approaching skirt, I anticipate.
I jump a little and brace myself,
And start handing out shields and swords
To protect every inch of my leftover calm.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Suddenly, the wind pushes the door open further
And I sigh a little with relief.
It's just the white tablecloth,
My tranquility in plastic,
Grazing with the zephyr.
YOU ARE READING
And the Petals Fall
Poetry❃ From one of the flowers in my infinite garden, I present to you a caricature of its petals. ❃
