The Hiatus

You are a momental accident of beauty, grace and subtlety.
That, without seeing, without even divining.
Like as if you are blooming without the sun.
Exploding to your fire-like color without the sky.

Depressing over your state.
You lurk into your little garden.
Where everywhere is your fragrance.
Where anywhere is your fleeting tears.

But you need not hold your legs with your full arms.
You will be alright.
For pretty flowers born on the month of flowers are always blessed.
I only wish I could be part of your fate.

~ by daerd on October 18, 2007.