Tulip Torn

Friendly Fairy Tales

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The first petal falls
without a sound
on a day
like any other.
The whole ballet
trembles
in time
without a
single
misstep
bending
swaying
except for
the roots
the anchor,
that stretch
and hold firm.
Rain thunders
the next day,
leaving stems
naked.
Divas are shorn,
tulip-torn,
forlorn
until next spring,
when they are reborn.

Copyright 2016 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: My hubby’s had his birthday (Happy Birthday if you’re reading!), and the whole house smells of cake, balloons and leftover dumplings and chicken with orange flavor. My memory frames and retains good moments, but I can’t help knowing that another petal has fallen.

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